A Murder of Crows
by KillehKiwi
Summary: Arkham Asylum welcomes it's newest lunatic. Charlene is a silent, mysterious psychopath that captures Arkham's, and eventually, Jonathan Crane's intrigue. Eventual Crane/OC and Joker/Harley. Slightly AU. Rating will change to M later.
1. Chapter 1

It started, for Doctor Liam Greene at least, with a notice left on his desk early July 15, a Wednesday. He was one of the head doctors at Arkham Asylum, home to some of the most dangerous psychopathic criminals around the Gotham City area.

The notice had been typed out on a computer, with an ink signature at the bottom of the page. It read;

...

_Dear Faculty and Staff,_

_I would like to inform you of a new arrival at the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. She arrived Tuesday evening, July 14th. _

_She is who you may all recognize as what civilians were nicknaming 'The Mommy Murderer', the villain who has been terrorizing this city by killing many mothers in the area on mass attacks. _

_Her real name, however, is Charlene Clark. _

_I would implore you to look at her records on the database, so you know exactly what you shall be dealing with during her stay here in Arkham. _

_She has been placed in solitary confinement until further notice, due to her unstable persona. She will be carefully monitored at all times. _

_The doctor who shall be her head therapist when she is free of solitary confinement is Doctor Liam Greene. _

_In other news, there are twenty new guards to replace the ones who had to be let go last week. As you may know, those guards were being bribed by many of the more dangerous criminals, and were found to not be able to handle this job. I would like you all to go and introduce yourselves to the new guards as soon as possible, so as they can recognize the doctors in case of a break-out scheme._

_Thank you all._

_Doctor Jeremiah Arkham_

_Head of Arkham Asylum_

_..._

Doctor Greene closed his eyes in frustration. He was always chosen to do the newest criminals, those too dangerous and unreadable to put into group session immediately. As if he didn't have enough to worry about, being the doctor of the Riddler as well.

He sat at his desk, and opened the Asylum's database to get a background check on Miss. Charlene Clark.

...

_Charlene Bridget Marie Clark_, her file read.

_Age: 24_

_Birth Day: April 23, 1984_

_Height: 5'5"_

_Weight: 121_

_Blood Type: O_

_Natural Hair Color: Pale Blonde_

_Current Hair Color: N/A_

_Eye Color: Grey_

_Mother's Name: Michelle Polare-Clark (Unknown)_

_Father's Name: Terrance Clark, Jr. (Deceased)_

_Sibling: Gregory Clark – 19 (Alive)_

_Psychological Standing: Unstable _

_Known Disorders: N/A _

_Confined: Solitary_

_Patient Code: 72069_

_Solitary Confinement Cell #: 12E_

_General Holding Cell #: 86J_

_Reason for Admittance:_

_Manically and brutally murdered a count of five women for reasons undiscovered. Shows no remorse for her deeds, but does admit to the crimes. _

_Victims:_

_Janet White, 48: Several knife wounds on many parts of the body._

_Karen Hayden, 52: Hung by her own scarf outside her own home._

_Leslie Talia, 46: Beaten to death by hand._

_Pauline Simmons, 50: Gun shot to the heart and to the back of the skull._

_Gwen Lima, 47: Broken neck, appears to be by hand. _

_Personal Life before Admittance:_

_Little is known about Charlene Clark's early years, childhood, or adolescence. Her brother, Gregory Clark, refused to give any information on Charlene's personal life when approached. Neighbors of Charlene were also asked, but she was found to be an extremely private woman, never actually speaking to any of her neighbors._

_Charlene was born at Justice Hospital a premature child by two and a half weeks due to stress-induced labor. She went to Kengling Elementary, Kengling Middle School, and Gotham High School throughout her years as a student. She graduated salutatorian at Gotham High. (All information found from hospital records, old school records and report cards. Report cards found in School Forms folder)_

_Charlene went to Darren University, but dropped out after two years. Her Major was Chemistry and she did not have a Minor. Reasons for dropping out of college are unknown._

_Charlene used to work at a small Gotham college, Keegan Community College, as a lab assistant. She continued to do so through her murderous exploits, though her work records showed she called in absent more frequently than previously. _

_In court, she pleaded guilty of all five of the killings, and she openly admitted that she did so intentionally. She was convicted of murder, but was also considered criminally insane. Due to this, she is here in Arkham Asylum. _

_..._

Liam was relatively unaffected by the manner of killing Charlene had used. He had dealt with criminals who had done much worse.

Though he did wonder how a girl who seemed to be small in stature would be able to pull of killing these women, especially Leslie Talia and Gwen Lima. A woman usually was found to use guns or knives for all of their killings, but Charlene was able to break a person's neck and beat somebody to deal with her bare hands, which was usually only seen in male murders.

After reading Charlene's personal life, he was somewhat shocked. Most of the people in Arkham had terrible childhoods, never finishing high school or even grade school, and never even starting college. But here was this woman, who had everything going for her, and she threw it all away in murder.

Liam shook his head to himself. He never did understand these people, how they could throw everything away like that.

'_But that's the reason you're a doctor here, Liam_.' He said to himself. _'Because you want to understand them.' _

With that thought, he picked up the printed copy of her records, his clipboard and pen, and the taser he always brought with him to therapy, and walked out his door to start his morning therapy with Victor Zasz

...

It was whispered all around Arkham. Everyone knew, though the staff had tried their hardest to keep it from getting out too quickly. The 'Mommy Murderer' was finally in Arkham.

It probably started with the Joker, who always had outside references on news. The inmates were not allowed to watch the news, due to the insane joy they got when they heard about themselves. All the inmates, when they broke out of Arkham, loved to try and one-up each other, trying to stay the main story longer than another person.

Until Jeremiah Arkham found out, of course. Now all they are allowed to watch are educational documentaries from the discovery channel and the history channel, anything non-violent.

The standing record is three weeks by the Joker, who frequently bragged about it at the lunch table.

"So, ah, has anyone watched the news lately?" the Joker asked gleefully at lunch.

Edward Nygma, also known as the Riddler, narrowed his eyes at the Joker. "No." he said scornfully, taking a bite of whatever he was eating. "And neither have you."

The Joker giggled madly. "Oh, Eddie, of course I have. And, ah, I'd like to inform you of who's the main story!"

"Don't call me 'Eddie'." Edward snapped. "But let me take a guess at this, is it _you_?"

"Wrong guess, Ed-_ward_." The Joker said. "Come now, you're the 'Riddler', aren't you? This one should be easy for a _smart guy_ like yourself!"

"Well if it's not you…" Nygma mused to himself. "It has to be somebody new, hm? Who is he?"

"It's not a 'he'." The Joker giggled. "It's a pretty, young one this time. Crazy as a loon! Crazy as… well… me!"

"A woman?" Edward asked, slightly surprised. There weren't many women who got into Arkham. "That's interesting."

Jervis Tetch, who sat next at the table next to the duo, spoke up. "Re-eally, now? A new woman prisoner? There hasn't been a new woman prisoner since those two murderous prostitutes." He mused. "But if there's a new woman here, why haven't any of us _seen_ her?"

The Joker grinned in remembrance of the old duo of prostitutes that had been transferred around a month ago, then answered Jervis' question. "The chick's a nut. She's in solitary for now cause they're afraid she'd hurt us." He said, and started to laugh. "Because a little, ah, blonde chick could _definitely_ hurt one of us."

He raised his hand to all the hardened criminals that were seated all around the cafeteria. From Victor Zsasz, who killed women on a daily basis, to Killer Croc, who could snap a neck with two fingers, to himself, the Joker, who couldn't care less _who_ he killed, as long as it was entertaining.

Riddler laughed at that. "Very true." He said, and glanced sideways at the Joker. "So, out of curiosity, what exactly did the girl _do_?"

The Joker smiled and laughed again. "She killed five women; she's called the 'Mommy Murderer'. Psh, if she wants to stay in the crime business, she'd better, ah, drop _that_ name and come up with something, ah, better." He joked, and giggled again and took a sip of his water.

The Riddler rolled his eyes at the joke. "Yes, yes. That's fine and all, but how long is she going to _be _in solitary confinement?" he pressed, curious about the new inmate, as everyone was.

Joker shrugged. "Nobody, ah, knows." He answered, and then looked around the cafeteria. "Speaking of nutcases with idiotic crime names, where's Icabod?"

Edward looked up, and rolled his eyes at the Joker's nickname for Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow. "He isn't back yet; he broke out around three months ago." He said. "He's apparently on the 'down low' for now, he's Batman's prime target at the moment."

The Joker grinned. "Oh, Batsy." He said, shaking his head. "Doesn't he have a life besides, ah, chasing us around? He's like a jealous ex-girlfriend." Joker giggled at his own joke, but it was drowned out by the siren that signaled the end of lunch and the start of recreational time. The three stood, and started walking out to the courtyard.

...

Charlene was quiet. She was always quiet. She had never been much of a talker; she liked to keep to herself.

That's why solitary confinement didn't affect her. She actually very much enjoyed the silence, being by herself didn't bother her in the least.

Though, in reality, she knew that she wasn't actually by herself. There were two cameras in two of the corners of her small, metal room. Both were covered in protective plastics to keep the current inmate from smashing them.

Charlene's mouth curved upwards in what you may classify as a 'smile'.

'_As if there is anything to destroy those cameras with,'_ she thought to herself, glancing at the cameras, quite sure she was being watched. _'Every thing is wielded to the floor.'_

It was true; everything that would be strong enough to break a camera was unmovable. There weren't even many pieces of furniture in the bare room. There was a small, metal bed with a limp mattress on top, which was tied down, along with sheets, a lumpy, grey blanket, and a lone pillow. There was also a tiny room to her left, with a grimy toilet, a small sink, and a small shower. Only in solitary confinement were showers not supervised, though the water was automatically shut off and drained after every five minutes to avoid suicides.

Charlene didn't mind this lifestyle in Arkham; in fact, she knew she would enjoy these weeks more than any of her time in Arkham after she was put into the general population. She didn't have to deal with any other people, being too over-friendly and prying into her personal life, and this suited her.

She was fed here meals a day, the food was sent in by dumbwaiter, and then the waste was sent back by dumbwaiter. No human contact, no awkward small-talk. Again, this suited Charlene.

She had been in her cell a day and a half, after all the testing they insisted was necessary, but, surprisingly, was not bored in the least. Though she hadn't done anything but lay on her bed and stare at the ceiling, she was quite fine. She thought about life, how she killed those women, how she got caught. She smiled to herself as she let herself sink into the memory of her last killing. Quite frankly, it was her favorite of the five.

...

'_No, please!' a woman's voice pleaded for mercy. Her voice cracked from the effort of speaking with two hands wringing her neck. There was no answer from the one the woman was pleading to for mercy. Her face was covered in shadow down to her mouth, which remained without emotion as she choked the woman from behind. They were in a small park; it was abandoned for now because it was after dark. No Gotham civilians were stupid enough to walk around the park at night. If you did, it was basically an invitation to be raped and murdered. That's why Charlene had led the woman there, in an act of being followed by a criminal. _

'_Please,' the woman tried again, 'I have children!' At those words, the hands that gripped her neck became tighter, and Charlene, who had remained silent, spoke._

'_I do believe I shall be doing those children a favor.' She whispered, moving her hands from the woman's neck to her head. The woman, whose name had been Gwen, struggled even more fiercely against the iron-grip hands that were now on either side of her head. _

'_I'll see you in hell.' Charlene said casually, and, in one quick movement, twisted the woman's head to the side, breaking her neck with a sharp 'snap!'. The woman sighed in pain, and then fell dead at Charlene's feet. Charlene turned from the body, and walked away as if nothing had happened._

_..._

Charlene's lips curved up in a half smile as she thought about the rush of killing somebody, the satisfaction. Then, the memory turned less enjoyable as she thought about her capture. By Batman.

...

_As she walked towards the street to catch a cab, Charlene hea__rd __something behind her, like the flutter of a type of leathery wings. She turned to look at the now-far away body of Gwen Lima. A dark figure was crouching over it, appearing to be checking the woman's pulse. It didn't seem to notice how Gwen's neck had been posed at an unnatural angle, until he tried to check her neck's pulse. _

_At that point, he looked up to see Charlene staring at him. _

_She didn't panic. She didn't even try to run. She decided to play innocent, mess with his mind a bit, though she knew he'd figure her out in a matter of minutes. Still, she'd rather not run and be obvious._

_When Charlene looked up at where Batman was supposed to be crouching, he was gone. Charlene closed her eyes, then turned around to look up at the Dark Knight, she wasn't surprised at all._

"_Hello, Batman." She said quietly, her voice not unfriendly, but it had a cold edge to it. Her grey eyes were rock hard._

"_There's a dead woman over there." He said, is voice a low growl. He said nothing more, but the silence suggested that there was a question hidden in that sentence. _

"_I know." Charlene said blatantly. _

"_If you know, then why didn't you do anything about it?" he asked, his voice becoming more irritated._

"_Well, seeing that we live in _Gotham_, it's not exactly a _rare_ sight, now is it?" Charlene said smartly, her voice never leaving the low tone that she always used. _

_Batman narrowed his eyes through his mask at her. "No, not exactly." He agreed, but stuck to the subject. "But if you see a dead person in a park, a normal person would at least scream and call the police, wouldn't she?" He pointed out, trying to convict her of the crime._

"_Not in Gotham, Batman. Not in Gotham." Charlene disagreed. "In Gotham, when you see a dead body, you pretend that it wasn't there, and you _don't_ attract attention to yourself. The killer may still be around." _

_Batman closed his eyes in irritation at the woman. "So, you expect me to believe that you just happened to walk past her body, which has been left in plain sight and is still _warm_, and not be involved in killing her." He asked scornfully, but was extremely surprised when she shook her head._

"_No. I killed her." Charlene said blatantly._

_Batman blinked. "Excuse me?"_

"_I killed her." Charlene said again, her voice still cold and casual. "I never said I didn't."_

_..._

After that, Charlene willingly went with Batman. She openly admitted to all five of the killings that she had been accused of; she even seemed to be _gloating_ a little when she was speaking of them.

Charlene frowned to herself slightly; there was something about her encounter with Batman that she didn't like. He acted very cocky. Though, Charlene thought to herself, he has a right to be, really.

Charlene pursed her lips, trying to figure it out. But she cut off all thoughts on the matter.

'_He's just another pawn in the game that we call life.' _she thought coldly, and rolled on her side to stare at the metal wall. Her eyes closed.

'_Please, I have children…' _Was the last thing she heard before she drifted off into a deep sleep.

...

_**This is set after the events of both The Dark Knight and Batman Begins. Just to clarify. **_

_**Review! I wanna know what you thought! :D **_

_**Jess**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Batman Begins/The Dark Knight. Nor anything at all to do with DC Comics. I merely own Charlene and her family. **_


	2. Chapter 2

Books. Books were Charlene's joy in life; her writing was her pride, and one of her favorite pastimes.

But apparently, in solitary confinement, you weren't allowed to do either, read _or_ write.

Reading was forbidden because it gave you false company that you were to be deprived of until release. And writing…, well, they thought she would either A). Try to commit suicide with a pencil, or B). Create fake companions in which to satisfy her need for human socialization.

Obviously, they knew nothing about Charlene, as she was perfectly content being kept alone in her cell.

Charlene didn't complain about it. She was relatively irritated, but she had no one to complain _to_, anyway. So she was content with just making up ideas for new stories in her head. She _was_ a very imaginative person, though that wasn't exactly viewed as a positive thing in the crime world.

Another thing Charlene did to fill the void of not being able to read, was telling herself her favorite stories from memory. The one book she thought about over and over was _The Giver_, by Lois Lowry.

It was her favorite book, which she had read over twenty times, and counting. The book stimulated her imagination past the views of everyday life, and into something beyond.

To an average person, the book may not make much sense and may seem to be extremely random, but Charlene had read the book so many times and analyzed it so thoroughly, that it meant something more to her than it did to those average people.

She grasped the struggle between what is right and what is easy, a theme in the book, as well as Jonas' struggle just to get out. He was so different, so alienated from everybody else, that he didn't understand the meaning of life.

'_It must have been extremely frustrating.'_ Charlene thought wistfully. _'For everyone to be so ignorant, though they thought that they were better. They didn't understand anything that truly mattered in life.'_

Charlene wondered about possible endings, since the book ended on a cliffhanger. Did Gabe and Jonas successfully reach the 'real world'? Or did they die together, their last moments being only hallucinations from their dying minds?

Being pessimistic about 'happy endings', Charlene thought the latter, that they both died. Happy endings don't exist to Charlene; somebody's always hurt in some way at the end. It's probably covered up, and the main characters are happy and, usually, in love. But what about the other guy? The one that's pushed aside or hated for one reason or another. Where's his happy ending?

...

"'Ay, watch tha hands, ya creep!" a voice with a thick Brooklyn snapped as the person was basically dragged through the hallways of Arkham. A large guard had resorted to picking the girl up around the waist and carrying her to her cell. "I should sue ya for this!"

"Oh, Harley, give it a rest." A silky, tired-sounding voice said from behind her. This one was also being led by a guard, but much calmer manner. The guard didn't even have to hold her shoulders; she walked by herself to her cell, hands cuffed behind her back, of course.

"Well, excuuse me for not wantin' a guy puttin' his hands all over my body! It'sa sacred place!" Harley retorted, giving the guard a deathly look before continuing to struggle. Her companion scoffed.

"He wouldn't _have_ to touch you if you would just be calm for once in your life." She said.

"Ya know what? How about ya _shut it_, Red?" Harley barked, stopping her struggling to glare at her friend. "It's _your _fault we're in this mess, anyways."

Ivy gasped, offended. "_Excuse me_? I highly doubt that, I do believe it was _your_ fault, _Harleen_." She protested. "_You_ were the one to hire those _males_ to help us with the diversion! You _know_ how I feel about _men_."

Harley rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. They're not good for anythin', they always mess up tha plans, I got it." She drawled. "And again, I say I'm _sorry_. I thought they'd be able to pull off a simple diversion."

Ivy rolled her eyes. "Obviously, they could not, and here we are. In Arkham Asylum." She pouted, looking around.

Harley sniffed. "We're not crazy, but we end up in Arkham anyways. That's jus' how the cookie crumbles, I guess." She said, and Ivy frowned at her.

She looked around disapprovingly. "There's barely any sunshine! I'm going to wither up and die in this place!" she moaned melodramatically. Harley rolled her eyes.

"Relax, Red. You'll be fine." She assured, giving Poison Ivy a small smile. The four stopped in front of a cell, it had an unbreakable glass front, so the prisoners could easily be watched, and a tiny room to the right where a small toilet was. A camera was perched in the upper right corner of every cell, for extra surveillance.

Harley Quinn, or rather, Harleen Quinzel, was put into the cell they stopped in front of. The door was locked by fingerprint analysis and pass code. Harley watched as Ivy was taken to a special cell four cells to her right, on the opposite side.

"What is the meaning of this?" Poison Ivy, also known as Pamela Isley, demanded as she was stopped in front of her cell. It was normal enough looking, unbreakable glass, small bathroom to the right, camera, but there was a hazy, red, fog-like substance on the inside of her cell.

"The boss had this does especially for you, Poison Ivy." A guard sneered, opening the door and pushing her inside. None of the gas escaped, for some odd reason. "Batman warned him that you can manipulate people with your pheromones, so their fog prevents you from doing so, along with preventing anything from growing."

Ivy glared at the guard. "And there are no windows in here! I'm going to _die_!" she moaned, turning to Harley. "This is cruel and unusual punishment!"

The second guard snickered. "Don't worry, miss. You'll get enough sunlight during recreational time. An hour and a half each day, under constant surveillance." He explained with a sneering voice, and then walked away with the first guard.

Ivy huffed in irritation; the lack of sunlight was already affecting her mood. She flipped her bright red hair over her shoulder, and rubbed her green-tinted shoulders. "My plants," she murmured. "I can already no longer hear them!"

Harley looked down to her friend's cell in sympathy. "Don't worry abou' it, Red." She called. "You'll be fine, just don't think abou' it! Relax." Ivy pressed herself to her cell's glass wall so she could see her blonde friend, she was starting to hyperventilate.

"Red, Red, relax! Take deep breaths in there, slowly!" Harley called. "Is there enough carbon dioxide for you in there?"

Ivy nodded as she concentrated on regulating her breathing. "Yes, they're pumping it in from a small pipe." She answered.

Harley nodded. "Good, just keep concentratin' on your breathin', ignore the people starin', and relax yourself until it's time for breakfast tomorrow morning, I think it's almost lights out." She said, and looked at the inmates across from her, who were lying down on their beds. "Go to bed and get some rest for tomorrow, hon. Love ya." Harley blew her friend a reassuring kiss, and retired to her bed for the night, right before the lights went out, and Ivy screamed.

Ivy was again in a bad mood when she and Harley walked to breakfast the next morning.

"Don't worry, Ives." Harley said brightly, trying to cheer her fiery-haired friend up. "Nobody judges ya for bein' afraid of the dark on your first day." This was obviously a lie, as many of the female prisoners glanced their way and snickered at Ivy's expense as they passed.

Ivy sniffed at the inmates, and held her head high as she walked past, feigning confidence. "Of course they don't." she said, and then hastily changed the subject. "Anyway, I'm feeling _much_ better now that I'm getting sunlight." Ivy was looking healthier; her green skin had been darkening, like it was withering, from lack of sun, but now it was regaining its healthy, light green glow.

Ivy felt her pores contracting as she let off oxygen, her body was filled with chlorophyll instead of a normal person's blood. Instead of human food, her body naturally made its own food. Harley loved Ivy's unique quality of photosynthesis; she always had clean air to breathe when her green-skinned friend was around.

Ivy and Harley sat at an empty table, mostly men surrounded them. A few wolf whistles, directed at the former, were heard throughout their trek into the cafeteria.

"_Men_." Ivy spat in disgust, pointedly ignoring their comments. "Not good for anything besides a grade-A annoyance."

Harley rolled her eyes at another of Ivy's feminist comments, and started to eat the breakfast that had been slopped onto her tray. It looked like a big pile of grayish scrambled eggs, with bits of bacon and ham sticking out of it. It was cold at the center.

She looked up from her plate at Ivy, whose arms and legs were crossed in annoyance and her mouth was set in a grim line.

"What's your problem?" Harley demanded, her blue eyes narrowing in irritation. "It's not that bad, Red! It's only our first day, and you're already actin' like you hate me. I told ya I was sorry!"

Ivy sighed, and uncrossed her arms and legs. "I don't hate you, Harley." She said. "I'm just a bit irritated at the whole situation at the moment."

Harley nodded in understanding, and then opened her mouth to say something, when she noticed someone walking a few tables down. Two men were walking towards an empty table that seemed to be reserved for them specifically. One was redheaded and tall, and the other had dirty-blonde hair, Harley could see a long scar stretching across the side of his face.

Ivy saw Harley's intrigued looked, and slowly turned her head to the side to see what she was looking at. She scoffed.

"Oh, Harley!" she exclaimed in exasperation. "We are in a_ mental asylum _and yet you are still looking at _men_?" She shook her head in disapproval.

Harley looked away, embarrassed that she'd been caught by her friend. She peeked up to get another look at the blonde man; he was pointedly staring at her from his table. Harley blushed, and turned her gaze back at Poison Ivy.

"Sorry…." She whispered, before taking yet another glance at the man, who was now looking at his red-haired companion, but his eyes were to the side, still studying her.

...

"_Really_, Joker, what _are_ you staring at?" Edward Nygma demanded, turning his body to the side to look in the direction the Joker was looking in. He caught sight of two, young-looking female inmates. They were both already wearing the gray inmates' uniforms, but the uniforms seemed a bit more form-fitting on them. One had fiery red hair, her back was turned to them and, by the rolled-up sleeves of her jump suit, she had light _green_ skin.

The Riddler raised an eyebrow at the ginger's skin, but ignored the strange trait and moved on to inspect the blonde. She had small features; her face reminded him of a child's, with slightly tanned skin and big, blue eyes. She was quietly eating her breakfast, seeming to be apologizing for something. She also seemed to be glancing over at their table every few seconds.

"Got your eyes on the pretty little blonde, have you?" the Riddler teased as he turned back around. The Joker grinned.

"Blondes _do_ have more fun." He mused with a giggle. "Maybe we should, ah, _talk_ to her during recreational time, hm?"

The Riddler raised his eyebrows in amusement. "'We'? How about _you_, Don Juan." He said. "I have better things to do than talk to women."

The Joker scoffed. "Like _what_?" he asked in disbelief.

The Riddler shrugged. "Better things."

Joker giggled. "Sure. I'll bet you, ah, just want to go stare at her red-headed friend." He sneered. "Ah, two gingers. Together for, ah, ever." With that he broke into hysterical giggles.

Edward glared at him, and touched his red hair self-consciously. "_Please_." He scoffed in self defense, and then changed the subject. "So, any news on the _other_ new girl?"

The Joker shrugged. "Not a peep." He answered. "But it's only been two, ah, weeks."

Nygma nodded. "Very true, but I'm sure the intrigue of new female patients has gone down due to their arrival." He pointed out, and gestured with his head to the women sitting at their table. "But I'm still somewhat interested."

Joker shrugged. "News like, ah, that bores me easily." He stated. "I lost, ah, interest around a week ago."

Edward rolled his eyes. "You don't have a very long attention span, do you?" he asked sarcastically.

The Joker laughed. "You bet your, ah, curly ginger locks I don't."

...

_**Questions? Comments? Let me, ah, know! :D Via REVIEW button! **_

_**Jess**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own anything DC Comics or anything beside Charlene. **_


	3. Chapter 3

Jonathan Crane, a name that struck fear into people's hearts

He liked that. He liked that he was feared by the population of Gotham. Fear was his obsession, his life, his passion, and his purpose. It controlled his life in every way possible. Yes, Jonathan Crane all but _breathed_ fear.

And there was a lot of it in his hometown of Gotham. The city was bursting with criminals, murderers, rapists, and psychopaths. The general population was almost always afraid _all the time_.

Crane enjoyed this, he enjoyed watching how a person lets fear rule their life. Women and even men practically _run_ down city streets in broad daylight, in fear they'd be mugged or killed.

He liked to watch this from dark allies, it fascinated him; how people let fear rule their lives every waking moment.

If you really think about it, you do the same thing. Do you walk a little faster or avert your gaze when you see a shady-looking man? Do you purposefully take a longer route home to avoid being around sketchy parts of your town?

Those behaviors are what fascinates Jonathan Crane so, as fear rules a person's life, the study of fear rules Jonathan's.

He was even fascinated by his own fear, like the fear he was experiencing right at this moment.

He didn't exactly classify it as _fear_, per say, but more of an unconscious reflex to be wary of something.

Today, his 'wary reflex' was of the Batman.

Jonathan was hiding out in a small, seemingly abandoned apartment in the Narrows. He was hiding from the Batman, who was searching for him, possibly at this very moment.

He was in the basement of his temporary 'home', working on a new fear drug to test out on his captives. He turned his head to the side, glancing at his two 'patients'. They were both still unconscious; he had injected them with a sedative as they walked past him on an abandoned street. Not an easy task for a wiry, tall man like himself, but he managed.

Jonathan turned his eyes back to his work, his pen flying across several pages spread out on a desk he had found upstairs. Only a single lamp was on, its light reflected off Jonathan's glasses, giving him an eerie look.

He scratched out numbers, and checked the vials that were simmering on a burner next to him. His brow was set with concentration as he worked.

Suddenly, one of the prisoners started groaning, their head lolling to the side. Jonathan turned in his chair, and took off his glasses. It was the young woman he had abducted; she was platinum blonde, obviously dyed, with grey eyes and rather skimpy attire. The other, who was still slouched in his chair, was of similar age with raven hair. He was still completely unconscious.

"Good morning." Jonathan said quietly, with mock hidden in his friendly tone. He stood from his chair to come eye to eye with the girl, whose eyes were darting around the room nervously. He removed the duct tape on her mouth, so she could speak.

"G-Good morning…" she said uncertainly, which made Crane lift his eyebrows in amusement. "Where am I?"

"Undisclosed location." Jonathan answered shortly, never letting his icy blue gaze waver from the girl.

"Who... are you, then?" the girl asked, trying a new approach.

"You'll figure that out soon enough." Jonathan answered, and picked up a syringe from his battered worktable. He had stolen most of his tools from an old medical lab that had been destroyed a few years back. The storage still held medical supplies like syringes and test vials, which made Jonathan's task of getting ingredients and supplies much easier.

He filled the obviously used syringe with a slightly cloudy fluid, and approached the girl, who thrashed against her bonds, screaming already. Jonathan pushed her left shoulder down, so her left side was still. He injected the substance quickly, before turning and walking back to his desk to retrieve his mask.

"T-That's it?" the girl whimpered, glancing at her slightly bleeding arm.

"My dear," Jonathan started, putting his mask on over his head. "Do you even know what _it_ is?"

The girl looked at his back, confused, until her eyes widened, and she started to scream in terror. Jonathan smirked from underneath his mask, and turned on the shrieking girl.

...

"Red, are you okay?" Harley Quinn asked, pushing her friend's arm in an attempt to get her attention. "Ya seem kinda outta it today…" They were sitting outside, on the slightly-brown grass behind the asylum, it was recreational time.

Poison Ivy opened one eyes to look at Harley. "I'm communicating with the grass right now." She snapped, before closing her eye and concentrating again. "It's difficult; the poor dears are crying for help, they're dying." Ivy cleared her throat; Harley could tell she was extremely upset.

"Oh… okay." Harley said awkwardly, though she was used to Ivy ignoring her for plants, she still found it a bit strange that she actually _spoke_ to vegetation. "Are ya able to, uhm, help them?"

"Possibly." Ivy answered shortly, and got up from her spot on the grass. She walked over to a male guard, who stiffened at her approach.

"Hello," Ivy purred to the man, who looked at her warily. "I have a request; do you think you could help me?"

'_Damn pheromones.'_ Harley thought bitterly, she was quite sure Ivy was using her favorite power at this point. She almost resented Ivy for her power over men.

The guard's wary gaze wavered; it took on more of an adoring look. "Uhm, yeah. Sure. Okay." He said, stumbling over his words. "What do you need?"

Ivy's smile turned less flirty, and more mocking. "Well, I was _wondering_ if you could possibly turn on the sprinklers. The grass is dying." She said, cocking her head in question.

The guard nodded slowly. "Sure! Yeah, I'll, uhm, go do that… for you. Yeah." He said quickly, and swiped his card in the slot by the door. He ran inside, and emerged a few minutes later, he was sweating.

"They're set to go off in a few minutes…" he said, slightly out of breath.

"Thanks a lot, dear." Ivy said, and turned to walk away.

"Anytime!" the guard called after her. A few of the other guards glanced her way in warning as she sauntered back to sit next to Harley once more.

"Well, that was simple." Ivy said lazily. "Men are so _easy_ to persuade."

Harley nodded. "Except the Batman." She pointed out. Ivy's face became contorted with anger as she whipped her head around to look at her friend.

"_What?_" she asked sharply. Harley shrugged.

"If ya remember, you tried to _persuade_ him into letting us go, but he wasn't even affected." Harley said, and Ivy snorted in irritation.

"Yes, well, just a fluke. It wouldn't happen again." She said, and waved the thought of her power not working on one man.

Harley opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by the hissing of water. She looked for where it was coming from, when a bit spurt of water hit her straight in the face. She cried out, and shot up onto her feet.

"Ivy!" she yelled, running for the concrete by the picnic tables. She was soaking by the time she got to one. "

Ivy laughed in happiness, and looked at the grass. She smiled as she sensed it was becoming healthier.

"All this for grass." Harley mumbled starting to shiver from the breeze hitting her soaked skin. She looked up, to see the man that had stared at her in the lunch room.

"You're wet." He said bluntly, his face was expressionless.

Harley looked down at herself. "Yeah. I am." She answered awkwardly. "Thanks for telling me, I hadn't noticed." She said, trying to break the awkwardness up.

The Joker grinned. "My, ah, pleasure, pretty lady." He answered. Harley blushed at the compliment.

"I'm Harleen. Harleen Quinzel." She said, half smiling. "But, uh, you can call me Harley Quinn."

"I'm the Joker." He said, grinning. "And, ah, you can call me the Joker."

"Nice to meet ya." Harley said pleasantly, and turned to look at Ivy. "Hope she doesn't do anythin' _stupid_. I'd hate to see her get hurt or put into solitary, y'know?"

The Joker giggled. "The _do_ put girls like, ah, her into solitary for no reason nowadays." He said. "Especially _pretty_ ones. I think they, ah, like to have 'em locked up alone so they can _stare_ at 'em all day."

Harley laughed. "Really? That's creepy." She said, watching Ivy talk to the grass.

"Quite." The Joker said. "There's one in there right, ah, _now_. Put her in as soon as she, ah, got here."

Harley raised an eyebrow. "What'd she do?"

"Nothing, actually." The Joker giggled. "She was labeled 'unstable'."

Harley frowned. "Hm, that's... uh, strange." She said, her voice drifted off into silence. "When's she, uhm, _out_ of solitary, exactly?"

Joker shrugged. "Dunno, don't, ah, care." He answered. Harley half smiled at him, before her eyes widened in alarm when she caught sight of Ivy.

"Oh no." she whispered, and took a step forward. "Red! Don't!"

Poison Ivy was telling the grass to _grow_. She was smiling gleefully as it began to grow as tall as she was, and beyond that. Guards were yelling, and advancing on her.

The grass tried to protect Ivy, whipping at the advancing guards, but it was still too weak to do much more than that. Guards pushed through, and roughly grabbed Ivy away from the patch of still-growing grass.

"Get your _disgusting_ hands off of me!" Ivy shrieked angrily, and pulled against her captors, who only tightened their grip. They hauled her into the building, the doors banged behind them. You could still hear Ivy's angry protests through the heavy metal doors.

"A lady, ah, really shouldn't have such a, ah, _dirty_ mouth, hm?" the Joker mused, smirking at Harley, who looked at him, horrified.

"What do ya think they're gonna _do_ to poor Red?" she asked quietly, her face had the likeness of a worried child's. The Joker chuckled low in this throat.

"Don't worry, doll." He said, still chuckling. "She'll just be in, ah, _solitary_ for a day or two, then never allowed outside, ah, again." Harley looked horrified.

"What?" she exclaimed, her face shocked. "But Red can't stand not being outside! She'll go insane!" Harley's lower lip trembled in worry.

"If she's in _here_, then, ah, I _do_ believe she's already, ah, _insane_." The Joker said, laughing. Harley's facial expression turned more indignant at that comment, but she said nothing.

"Joker, are you harassing this poor girl?" a voice behind them demanded. Harley turned her head to see a red-headed man. "I apologize for him, dear. He hasn't taken his medication today." The man chuckled, and tried to pull the Joker away, but he resisted.

"Uh, no. He's fine." Harley said, shrugging. "He's not botherin' me."

The man gave her a strange look, but complied.

The Joker grinned at the Riddler. "Eddie, I'd, ah, like you to meet Harley Quinn." He said, waving his arm in Harley's direction.

The Riddler nodded and smiled at Harley. "Edward Nygma. Or the Riddler. Whatever suits you, darling." He said, and turned back to the Joker. "Anyway, did you _see_ that display? She controls vegetation!"

Harley shook her head. "Don't let Red hear ya say that!" she exclaimed. "She hates it when people say she 'controls' them. She doesn't, she asks them nicely to do what she asks. Plants just love her, apparently."

Edward cocked his head. "How'd she obtain such a wonderful gift?" he asked.

"She doesn't like to talk about it." She answered. "And I don't wanna be startin' any gossip or anythin'. Plus, it's really none of your business, no offense."

Nygma nodded once. "Of course, I was merely curious." He smiled. "No offense taken."

Harley smiled back, and the alarm went off for them to go back inside for the day. She waved to the Joker and Edward, and headed back inside with the women.

...

'_You little bitch! You whore! Good for nothing waste of my whole fucking life!' __A voice screamed_.

The last word echoed through Charlene's head as she calmly opened her eyes from her dream. Unlike many people, she didn't dramatically shoot up into a sitting position after a bad dream. She slowly raised her torso up, coming into a sitting position. She crossed her legs under her rough cover, resting her elbows on her knees.

Charlene exhaled slowly, relatively unaffected by the once-disturbing nightmare. She closed her grey eyes in a long blink, and opened her eyes again to stare at the exact same spot she had before. She rid her mind of the dream, and slowly stood up to stretch her spine. It cracked in the effort, and Charlene sighed in bliss of the release.

Charlene heard four pairs of footsteps coming down the hall, the sound could be considered maddening, the sound suggested release, but the promise was almost always broken. It didn't affect Charlene, of course, but she imagined that it drove other inmates in solitary even further into insanity.

This time, the promise was fulfilled. Charlene heard the footsteps stop in front of her door, then four beeping sounds by her door. Her metal door clicked, and slid open to reveal a male doctor.

"Hello, Miss. Clark." The doctor said, his voice was pleasant, but wary. "My name is Dr. Liam Greene, and I'm your lead psychiatrist." Charlene nodded in understanding, and waited for him to continue speaking.

There was an awkward silence, and then Greene cleared his throat. "Uh, I'm here to release you. Your period in solitary confinement is up for the time being." He explained. "So, if you would put your hands where I can see them…" Greene stepped forward cautiously, and grabbed Charlene's outstretched wrists tightly, twisting her arms behind her back painfully as he led her out of the white room.

"Okay, Crane." A gruff voice of one of the guards growled as a man was pushed into the now-empty cell. Charlene looked up to see a bruised man being shoved into the white room. He had glasses and disheveled brown hair. He turned to glance at Charlene quickly; she was intrigued at his icy blue eyes, before the door slid shut once more.

"Get moving, missy." The guard barked, pushing her into a stumbling walk. Charlene was now gripped by two, burly guards. All thoughts of the man were pushed from her mind.

...

_**Edward Nygma is yummy. :D **_

_**Review? Jess likes reviews. She also likes speaking in third person! :D**_

_**Jess**_


	4. Chapter 4

Charlene was unaccustomed to being around so many people.

She was never a social butterfly to begin with, but this was ridiculous to her. Women surrounded her; there was a man-like female inmate straight across from her, always _staring_ at her.

Charlene tried her best to ignore the crude insults and shouting that was always present in this wing of the Asylum. And the screaming, Charlene didn't exactly enjoy screaming unless she was purposefully causing it.

And it was _all_ the time. Especially at night. Charlene didn't even want to _imagine_ what it was like in the maximum security wing.

The good thing about being in the general holding cells was that Charlene _finally_ got to read.

The faculty actually used reading as a therapeutic exercise, and encouraged inmates to read. Charlene asked for anything Jane Austen, and her request was granted. The books' corners were rounded off, as were the page corners, for safety precautions. She was heavily monitored at all times when she was reading, they were making sure she wasn't going to attempt suicide.

Charlene ignored the fast that the hard-cover book was covered in bubble wrap, and continued to read as she attempted to block out the noise around her. She pushed her wet hair behind her shoulder; it had just been laundry and shower time. The women got to shower and do laundry three days a week, which was slightly revolting in Charlene's opinion, only showering three times out of seven days. She was grateful for the cleansing water, and being around naked women didn't actually bother her. She just averted her eyes, kept her head down and eyes closed, and washed as fast as she could.

An alarm buzzed loudly, interrupting Charlene's reading, it signaled lunch time. Charlene stood, her face expressionless, and walked with the other women down a guard-lined hallway to the cafeteria.

She narrowed her eyes in irritation as she was pushed from all sides by lines of burly women racing to the cafeteria. She gritted her teeth as she was knocked to the floor.

"'Ey! Watch what yer doin'!" a voice yelled as a pair of hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her back on her feet. "Ya knocked someone down!"

Charlene looked at the blonde inmate strangely, dusting her uniform off of all the grim that had gotten on it from her fall. She turned to walk away, before the voice stopped her.

"'Ey! Wait up!" the woman said, jogging to catch up. "Ya alright? That bitch really knocked ya down hard."

Charlene nodded once and blinked in confirmation. The blonde seemed to be waiting for a verbal answer, and continued to stare at her. Charlene continued to walk, paying no more attention to the girl.

"So, I don't suppose I'm gonna get a 'thanks' for helpin' ya an' all?" she said after a bit. Charlene inwardly sighed.

"Thank you." She said, her voice had a slight accent that couldn't exactly be placed. Those were the first words she had spoken out loud since she had arrived at Arkham.

The woman nodded in satisfaction. "You're quite welcome." She said, and smiled. "By the way. I'm Harley."

Charlene nodded again in acknowledgement.

Harley realized she wouldn't get an answer without a direct question. "What's you're name, then?" she asked.

"Charlene." She answered, trying to satisfy Harley's curiosity, and, quite frankly, make her leave her alone.

Harley blinked in surprise. "You mean to say you're Charlene Clark? The Mommy Murderer?" she exclaimed. Charlene set her jaw as she continued to walk, she hated that nickname.

"Yes." She answered anyway, trying to be polite.

"Wow! I saw your story on the news!" she said, excited. "My mom was terrified of you!"

Charlene nodded, her facial expression serious, her mouth was in a firm line.

"Harley." A voice said from behind them. Harley twisted her body around to see Poison Ivy walking calmly but quickly, catching up with them. Charlene merely turned her head to the side to see who spoke.

"Where have you been? I lost you back at the cells." Ivy said sourly. She glanced at Charlene. "Who's this?"

"Oh this is Charlene Clark." Harley said excitedly. "Ya know, the Mommy Murderer!"

Ivy's red eyebrows shot up. "Oh really." She drawled. "How interesting."

Harley nodded vigorously. "Oh! By the way, Red, what happened to you? I haven't seen you in two weeks! I asked around, but nobody knew. The guards wouldn't tell me anything."

Ivy's facial expression turned sour. "Yes, well, I was in solitary confinement for two weeks." She sniffed; obviously the memories from that time were not pleasant. "They did numerous tests on me, and demanded I demonstrated a conversation with a plant. The doctors still consider me unstable. I'm banned from outdoor recreational time until the find an 'antidote' for my 'condition'."

Harley barked a laugh.

"And get this, Harls." Ivy started; they were entering the cafeteria now. "_Jonathan Crane_ is in solitary. The Scarecrow."

Charlene's face remained expressionless as she flicked her eyes over to the side to look at Harley and Poison Ivy. She was mildly interested, as she remembered the last name. It was spoken by one of the guards.

"Oh, yeaah! I remember hearing about him on the news." Harley said, her eyes lit up with realization. "He flooded the Narrows with some fear gas, right?"

Ivy nodded. "Yes. Apparently he's been in and out of Arkham periodically over these three years since the incident." She shrugged. "Batman also apparently hurt him pretty badly this time. It's amazing how loudly guards talk, you learn a lot."

Harley giggled. "Well, Red, they were probably trying to impress you with their 'superior knowledge'."

That made Ivy snort in a rather un-ladylike manner. "True, but I'm not impressed in the least." She drawled, shrugging.

Harley grinned. "You never are, Red." She pointed out.

...

The Riddler and Joke raised their heads as the women entered the cafeteria. Most of them had very male-like characteristics, but many were very feminine. The Joker noticed Harley out of all the others. She was walking with the red-head, and a new blonde woman he'd never seen before.

The Riddler poked the Joker in ribs with his elbow with a grin. "Stop checking that girl out." He teased, glancing at her himself. "Just invite her to sit with us today."

The Joker gave Edward a withering look, and then turned his black gaze back on Harley, who was in line for food. His eyes flickered to the new girl once more.

"Maybe I, ah, will." He said, shrugging. "I'm not really a man with a, ah, plan."

Edward smiled, his eyebrows raised.

"Just entertain her _friend_ for me, will you, ah, _Eddie_?" he sneered. Edward looked up, and scanned the red-headed friend for a moment, before noticing the second fair haired woman. She wasn't speaking, but she seemed to be involved in their conversation.

"Who's the second blondie, Joker?" he asked, curious. The Joker giggled.

"_That_, my dear Eddie, is our little, ah, psychopathic who was thrown in solitary." he answered, and Edward raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Mm, _really_, now?" he drawled, surveying her appearance. "That's interesting."

Harley spotted the Joker, and she was waved over as soon as the eye contact was made. Harley looked overjoyed as she basically skipped towards the able, Ivy was pouting as she followed. The last woman, she followed but looked as if she'd rather be back in solitary.

"Sit, sit." The Joker said, motioning to chairs across the table from him. Ivy sat across from the Riddler, and Harley, obviously, sat across from the Joker. The last, sat next to Ivy, diagonal from the Riddler, who looked at her curiously.

"Hello there, beautiful." The Riddler purred. The woman looked up, and blinked in a cold greeting. "What's your name?"

Harley cut in here. "She's Charlene Clark! Can you believe it, that cra- one woman who was on the news a month ago!" she squealed.

Ivy rolled her eyes at her friend's excitement. "Harley, relax." She hissed, elbowing her. Harley glared at her friend.

"Some bitch in the hallway knocked her down, but _I_ helped her back up!" she continued, obviously bragging. "And I'm _sure_ we'll be best friends, right, Charlene?"

Charlene looked at Harley, and blinked again in a form of answer. Nobody knew if it was a negative or positive response, but Harley took it as a positive.

The Riddler turned his gaze on Ivy. "So, what happened to you? You disappeared for two weeks." He observed, cocking his head in question.

Ivy sniffed. "Solitary confinement." She said bluntly. "And they studied me, like a caged animal. It disgusts me how they treat superior beings."

The Joker snorted quietly, and turned his attention on Harley. He didn't say anything, he just let her squirm under his black gaze.

Harley searched for a way to break the silence. "Oh! Uhm, do you guys know a Jonathan Crane?" she asked, and the Joker's eyes lit up.

"Ol' Icabod Crane? Yeah, we, ah, know him." The Joker answered for them both. "What, ah, about him?"

"He's in solitary confinement." Charlene spoke up for the first time, without even realizing it. Harley's high pitched was grinding on her nerves.

Everyone turned to stare at her.

"She speaks!" the Joker chuckled. "What other, ah, _tricks_, can you do?"

Charlene stared coldly at the Joker, before looked back down at her food in silence. She didn't like him.

The Joker laughed more forcibly. "Well now, aren't you a cold, ah, little thing?" he asked. "Don't be angry, doll. Joker's only, ah, _joking_."

The Riddler cleared his throat. "_Anyway_. Is Crane really in solitary confinement? He's been out of the public eye for a few months; I wonder how Batman found him."

Ivy shrugged. "I don't know, but Batman certainly messed him up well." She snorted. "Guards were talking about internal bleeding and such when they brought me from my solitary cell. It sounded quite bad."

The Joker sniggered. "Icabod's a tough, ah, guy, he'll be fine." He drawled. "Wonder when he'll be outta, ah, solitary. I've missed the little bugger."

Harley turned to Ivy. "Red, did they say why he was in solitary?" she asked. "Just curious."

Ivy shrugged again. "Yes, I think they said it was because he was hurt so badly. They didn't want to have him in the general public until he recovered." She answered.

A siren went off, and it was time for recreational hour. The five stood, and exited slowly. Charlene was last in line.

...

Charlene skipped recreational time. She told the guards that she had a headache, which was true, and was allowed to go back to her cell for the duration of recreational time. The headache part was true. Harley's voice pounded in her head like a jackhammer. The worst part, she almost never stopped talking.

She laid on her bed, relaxing in the refreshing silence of her wing of Arkham. Everybody was either at therapy or outside.

She reflected on the people she'd met today. Harley, obviously, got on her nerves quite a bit. So did the Joker, she didn't like him. He made her feel as if her whole life was a _joke_. A game to be played with. And meaningless, an open book that anyone could skim.

She didn't like feeling like that. Not at all.

The Riddler, she had mixed feelings for. She didn't dislike him, but she didn't exactly like him either.

Poison Ivy was the only one you could say she _liked_. She was a sensible woman, she knew what she wanted. Charlene liked that.

Now Jonathan Crane, he was a completely different story, though she didn't formally meet the man.

There was just something about him that intrigued her. It wasn't his looks; she hadn't even gotten a good look at him. It wasn't his personality; she hadn't met him. It was just something about his demeanor.

Charlene's mouth curled downward ever so slightly in a frown, she didn't like things that confused her. She was usually able to figure things out extremely easily, but this, her intrigue with the Doctor she had never met, was baffling.

"Upset, Charlie?" a voice laughed to Charlene's right. She didn't even have to turn to know that it was her brother, Gregory. But as she did, she noticed he was accompanied by two burly guards.

"Hello, Gregory." She said quietly, approaching the indestructible glass that separated them. She ignored his comment pointedly.

"How's life as a psychopathic criminal? Met any interesting crazies lately?" he sniggered, leaning on the glass.

Charlene rolled her eyes at her younger brother's joke. "Funny. Very funny, Gregory." She drawled sarcastically. "What are you doing here?"

Greg shrugged. "What? I can't visit my favorite sister once in a while? Sorry I broke the law." He sniggered. "Oh, sorry, I forgot. _You_ did that."

Charlene narrowed her eyes at Greg in irritation. "Have you come here just to nag me? If so, I suggest you leave." She snapped, though her voice was quiet, someone who had known her as long as Gregory knew that she was extremely irritated.

"Or what? You'll kill me, too?" he joked, enjoying the ease at which he took to rile her up. "I thought you only killed women. Women with _children_."

"Shut up." Charlene snapped, her voice rising above its normal limit of just above a whisper. "You know nothing; you're still a _child_ yourself."

Gregory pursed his lips, his chest puffed out a little. "Excuse me? I'm nineteen!"

"Exactly my point."

"Don't act so 'high and mighty', Charlene." Greg growled, he crossed his arms. "You're only twenty-four yourself."

"At least I can drink legally."

"At least _I'm_ not behind a wall of indestructible glass!" Gregory yelled, his eyes dancing in anger. He slammed his fist on the wall. Drinking had always been a touchy subject in their family. It had killed their father, and it was a known fact to Charlene that Gregory was already on the road to the same fate.

"True." Charlene said, her voice was back in its maddeningly calm tone. "But at least _I'm_," she paused for dramatic effect. "Not on the other side, yelling at a criminally insane person like a lunatic himself."

Gregory huffed. "You're insane." He accused, glaring.

"Yes." Charlene said, turning her back. "I know."

There was a pause of silence; neither knew what to say next.

"Why did you come here, Gregory?" Charlene asked finally. "Was it really to torment me, or did you actually require something of me?"

Another pause.

"What happened to mom, Charlene?" Greg asked quietly, but his voice was accusing.

Another maddening silence.

"I don't know, Greg."

Charlene heard a bang on her wall of glass. She knew it was Greg's fist hitting the wall in frustration. She didn't even flinch.

"Yes you do!" Greg screamed. "You killed her didn't you?" The guards pulled Gregory away from Charlene's cell.

"Admit it, Charlene! You killed our mother!" he kept yelling as he was dragged down the hall. His voice echoed off the solid walls. "You killed her!"

Charlene looked after him, her eyes were sad. She blinked, and her face became emotionless once more. She turned, and walked back to her bed. Her shoes clicked, and the sound echoed off the walls, like Greg's voice.

...

**_What'd you think? Greg is honestly one of my favorite OCs I've ever made. I don't know why, but I like him. _**

**_Charlene spoke a lot during this chapter, hm? Greg's probably the only one who'll be able to get her to speak, honestly. Let me know what you thought of their brother/sister tension. You'll most likely see him again as the story progresses. _**

**_Let me know what you think, via REVIEW. I enjoy reviews. :)_**

**_Lots of Love! :)_**

**_Jess_**


	5. Chapter 5

"C'mon, girl." A guard growled at Charlene. It was her first day of one-on-one therapy with her psychologist Liam Greene.

She was walked silently to Greene's office, where the guards knocked. Greene opened the door, and she was immediately handed over to him.

Greene waved the guards away, and locked the door as he shut it.

"Good morning, Miss. Clark." He said; his voice was pleasant. Charlene nodded in acknowledgement as she stood there.

Doctor Greene cleared his throat. "Please, sit." He invited, motioning to a long, black couch. It was covered in sterilized plastic; it was supposed to be sanitary for patients. A small, black armchair was next to it. It was also covered in plastic.

Charlene wordlessly walked over and sat on the couch. She looked at Greene expectantly as he sat in the armchair.

"Please, feel free to lay down." He said, trying to make her feel comfortable. She swung her legs up and around, resting her back on the hard plastic of the couch, her head was propped up.

"Your group therapy doctors tell me you don't speak much, hm?" Liam asked Charlene, glancing at her file. "Is there a reason for that?"

Charlene blinked. "Mindless chatter is illogical in my opinion. I prefer to not be involved." She responded, her voice was cold.

"Is that what you'd describe your therapy sessions as? 'Mindless chatter'?" Greene asked, thankful he had gotten a response from her fairly easily.

She nodded simply in answer.

Greene cleared his throat again. "Perhaps you'd like to elaborate on that, Miss. Clark?" he asked uncomfortably.

"You are a certified psychologist, are you not? You're intelligent enough to figure it out." She said. "You tell me."

Liam pursed his lips. "Why don't you tell _me_? I'm here to learn about _you_, Miss. Clark." He replied. "Not to give you my opinions."

Charlene was silent, obviously not going to answer anytime soon.

Liam changed the subject. "Why don't you tell me about your family, then?" he asked. "Any problems? Do you have any siblings?"

"One brother. Gregory." Charlene answered.

"Okay, why don't you tell me about him, then?" Greene asked, tapping his pen on his clipboard. Charlene was silent again, and Greene took that as a 'no'.

"O-Kay…" Liam sighed, he realized he wasn't going to get anywhere with Charlene. "How about school? Tell me about college. Where'd you go, what was your major? And high school, how was that experience?"

"I think you know the answers to all these questions already, Mr. Greene." Charlene said coldly. Greene flinched; he didn't go to medical school for eight years to be called 'Mr.' "So you can refrain from acting like your interested."

Greene grit his teeth. "It's my job to _help_ you, Miss. Clark." He said. "I can't do that unless I understand your past and where you come from."

"Help me with what exactly, Doctor?" Charlene asked scornfully, though her voice sounded monotone.

"Well, help you overcome your... ah, insanity. Become a normal person." The doctor responded.

"So let me ask you a question, then." Charlene said quietly. "How many of the population of Arkham have actually _overcome_ their insanity?"

Doctor Greene flushed. "Uh, well, I don't know exactly." He stammered. Charlene fell silent again in satisfaction.

Greene sighed in frustration. "Fine. If you don't feel like talking today, we'll pick his up tomorrow." He said finally, he stood and pressed a buzzer on his desk, then unlocked the door. "You'll have another group therapy tonight, just to inform you."

Two guards came in and escorted Charlene back to her cell, where she picked up her book and continued reading as if nothing had happened.

…..

He gritted his teeth as he rose from his laying down position. His body was still extremely battered and bruised.

Jonathan Crane looked down at himself; his left hand had two broken fingers; his pinky and his ring finger. His arms were covered in bruises and cuts, as was his face, torso, and legs. He had one black eye. Doctors had suspected internal bleeding, but it was proven false.

But that all sounds worse than it actually is. The cuts were all shallow, except for a few on his torso, and the bruises were already fading. He was extremely sore, however.

'_Damn...' _his mind whispered to him. _'Batsy really got us good this time, eh, Crane?'_

Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. He didn't need his alter-ego's sarcastic comments right now.

He waited for the voice to speak again, to rattle his mind with another sarcastic comment, but it never came. Jonathan's tight muscles relaxed. He slowly stretched out his sore limbs, wincing as they popping and groaned in protest. He almost yelled out as he moved his left foot, he forgot that it had been broken as well.

He slowly raised his feet back up, flinching as he laid them flat on the bed again, and reclined back to relax his battered body once more.

'_Well, it seems I won't be doing much any time soon.'_ Crane thought sourly, raising his icy blue eyes to the ceiling to count the squares on the ceiling.

Jonathan pursed his lips as he began to think about what had happened at his hide-out:

_The girl was still screaming, though the effects of the toxin were well worn off by now. Jonathan snickered to himself as he continued his work, recording the reactions of the girl, and the duration of the effects of such a small dosage. He was quite satisfied, to say the least._

_Suddenly, the girl stopped screaming. Crane glanced up just at the moment when a dark foot hit him square in the nose. The girl was gone, stolen away easily by the Dark Knight._

'_I'm sorry; you don't have an appointment…' Crane mumbled, his head a tad fuzzy from the blow. That comment was answered with another smart blow to his head. _

_Crane stood up as quickly as he could. He didn't have his hand spay-nozzle on his wrist, and when he raced to the table to retrieve it, Batman crushed it with his fist._

_The whispering of Scarecrow filled his mind, telling his which blow was coming next. Jonathan was able to dodge, and made a break for the door. Batman tripped him, and he fell hard to the floor. _

_As Batman's foot became quickly closer to Crane's face, he rolled to the right, just evading the attack. He jumped to his feet, and raced to his work table to grab a concoction. He pulled a vial of chemicals out, and splashed in into Batman's facial area. A sizzling sounded, the chemicals burned his skin._

_Batman grunted in pain, and attempted to wipe the burning fluid from his eyes and face. When Crane looked back, his face was a startling red. Crane snickered in satisfaction as he raced up the creaking wooden stairs to the main floor of the building._

_Obviously, he wasn't paying enough attention to the volume of the creaking. At one of the top steps, the weight of his thin body became too much for the rotting wood, and the stairs broke, and fell out from under him._

_Crane yelled out as he plummeted to the concrete flooring of the basement, a few cracks that were not the wood sounded as his body hit the floor._

_Somehow, Jonathan was still conscious as Batman approached him, grumbling in his deep voice about the chemicals that had been thrown on his face._

_Crane lifted his head in an attempt to stand, when he felt Batman's gloved hand grab the back of his head, and knock him unconscious with Jonathan's forehead meeting concrete flooring. _

Jonathan winced as he remembered the pain of that last blow. It was a miracle that he hadn't gotten a concussion or worse from Batman's rough treatment.

He touched his head, it was still quite sore. A sharp twang of a headache started up again as soon as he touched a rather large bump on the back of his skull.

Jonathan groaned as he covered his eyes with his shabby pillow. This was going to be a _long_ recovery period.

...

Harley sat outside alone. She was staring at the small vent on the third floor of the asylum. She had figured out that that small vent was where Poison Ivy's cell was.

Harley sighed; Ivy was not to be let outside anymore because of the whole 'dangerous grass' incident.

"What's with the long, ah, face, beautiful?" the Joker's voice asked from behind her. Harley turned her head slightly.

"Oh, uhm, nothing, really. I just miss Red." She answered; her voice was void of the usual happiness it held.

The Joker scoffed. "Why? You'll see her again at, ah, _therapy_." He pointed out.

"I know, but… we usually do everythin' together." Harley explained. "She's like my big sister, y'know? It's really weird with her not bein' next to me, scoffing at everythin' I say."

The Joker gave her a funny look. "So… you want her to be out, ah, here… so she can yell at you and call you stupid."

Harley shrugged. "Red doesn't mean things she says. She's jus' lookin' out for me, is all." She said. "She's my best friend."

The Joker scoffed again. "I didn't know psychopaths had, ah, _friends_." He commented. Harley laughed a little.

"Eh. We're not your normal everyday psychopaths, are we?" she giggled. "Besides, we've been best friends since we were like, four."

"Never thought you'd be locked up, ah, here when you were four, hm?" the Joker commented, Harley nodded.

"Yeah, never thought we'd kill people or nothin'. I wanted to be a princess." She laughed, shaking her head. "But Red always wanted to be a botanist. She always loved her plants."

The Joker nodded absentmindedly, but didn't answer.

Harley cleared her throat in the uncomfortable silence. "So, what about you and the Riddler?" she asked, gesturing with a nod of her head at the red-headed man lounging on a bench not too far away. "You guys seem to be _friends_."

The Joker shrugged. "I, ah, prefer to think that we just tolerate each other." He said nonchalantly. "I don't, ah, have friends."

Harley frowned. "Well that's no way to live! Everyone needs friends!" she exclaimed. "I'm your friend!"

The Joker smiled a bit corruptibly, but said nothing. Harley was uncomfortable again, but ignored it this time.

...

_**I did nott like this chapter for some reason. :/ It's more of a filler than anything, but you got an inside look on Jonathan and how he's feeling, some Charlene action. She talked a bit more than I would have liked… but alrighty. She's quite a little bitch when she wants to be, hm? Oh, and you got some Joker/Harley action as well. Their relationship isss going to happen, but it's gonna take a loooong time. Just saying. : ) Harley is a bit different than she is in the animated series with how she falls for the Joker. She's not so open to his psychopathic ways, I guess. Well, not yet. She's still sane. :) **_

_**Soooo! Let me know what you thought! I'd love you to drop a review! Jonathan will be out in the next few chapters, I promise. And we can get to the juicy stuff I have planned for Charlene and his relationship. ;) Yes, she does in fact think he's gorgeous. What girl in her right mind-… Well… Charlene isn't in her right mind… But any girl who has hormones would! But being Charlene, she doesn't like thinks that confuse her!**_

_**Okay, please excuse my rambling! :) I have one more word, then I'm OUT.**_

_**REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!**_

_**Jess**_


	6. Chapter 6

Charlene was mad.

Though, since she was Charlene, you couldn't tell unless you had known her for years.

Her face was blank as she walked, escorted out of her cell by two burly guards. They were taking her to the lunch room. She didn't want to eat lunch with those imbeciles. That's why she was angry.

For the past week, she had complained of migraines to skip out of lunch and recreational hour. Though, after that first week, medical staff demanded to examine her in case she was suffering a brain tumor or such.

Of course, when she was examined, they found nothing wrong with her.

They accused her of plotting suicide when the inmates were least guarded, and put her on suicide watch. They also said something about 'needing socialization to become a mentally healthy person' or such. Charlene didn't remember, she hadn't been listening.

She found this absurd. Why would socializing with lunatics help her become any saner? Insanity at it's finest, and it was coming from the medical staff, not the inmates.

So, she was angry. She enjoyed solitude. Solitude meant she didn't have to answer that girl Harley's dimwitted questions or listen to the Joker play his little games with people.

She longed for intelligent conversation, though she knew she would find none with her group of acquaintances that she was forced to reside with.

So here she was. Back in the noisy, smelly lunchroom once more. She walked to the kitchen areas to get her lunch. Harley waved her down as soon as she turned around. Charlene put on her best blank look as she grudgingly walked to the table.

"Hey Charlene!" Harley chirped, she was seated _very _close to the Joker today. Interesting. "How are ya? We haven't seen you for like a week, how come?"

Charlene shrugged slightly as she sat next to the Riddler at the end of the table, as always.

Harley ignored the fact that Charlene ignored her question, and went back to talking to the others.

"So! Didja hear about the chili that exploded in the kitchen yesterday?" Harley asked excitedly. "Someone apparently put a chemical into the chili, and when it was being cooked, it exploded! Maimed the head lunch lady, and created quite a mess! Saw it myself!"

The Joker giggled madly at the picture of the lunch lady being maimed. Poison Ivy just pursed her lips, and pushed away her bowl of soup.

"Does anyone know who did it?" the Riddler asked, Harley shook her head.

"Nope! But whoever did is a genius!" she chirped, clearly enjoying the antics that went on at the Asylum. "What kind of chemical explodes like that, anyway?"

Everyone shrugged, except for Charlene.

"Nitroglycerin." Charlene said in irritation. She felt the need to enlighten Harley; her ditzy questions made Charlene develop _real_ migraines.

"Oh... yeah." Harley said, pretending to know exactly what Charlene was talking about. "But what kind of hospital is stupid enough to keep explosive chemicals in an insane asylum, y'know?" She laughed.

Charlene pursed her lips slightly. "Nitroglycerin is often used medically, as well. It's quite useful in heart disease and as a natural vasodilator. Though it is quite idiotic to keep pure nitroglycerin in an asylum, instead of as tablets or ointments, but I believe Arkham makes its own medication instead of buying it from a separate manufacturer." She said. This was the longest string of words she had ever spoken to her 'group'. They were in slight shock. "The culprit probably just snuck into the manufacturing room and stole a vial of the chemical."

"Mm, seems the beauty has brains as well." Edward purred next to her ear. Charlene narrowed her eyes and edged away from him in irritation.

Harley smiled. "Not all blondes are as dumb as you think, Nygma!" she joked.

Charlene rolled her eyes, though no one saw. _'You should talk, nave.' _She thought to herself.

Nygma shrugged. "I'm sure seeing a _dumb blonde_ in front of me, _Quinn_." He shot back with a smile. Charlene almost smiled at the comment, though she knew it was a joke, Edward had just scored major points with her for insulting Harley.

Harley only grinned and continued to eat. "I know you are, but what am I?" she sneered with a laugh.

Charlene almost gagged on her food in shock at the lame come-back. _'What are we? Elementary school children?'_ she thought sourly.

Edward rolled his eyes and looked at Poison Ivy. "You've been quite quiet today. What, have you run out of snide remarks to make to everything we say?"

Poison Ivy gave him a burning look. "Why can't I be quiet without you commenting?" she asked, irritated. "You don't bother Charlene nearly as much as you bother me!"

The Joker laughed. "That's because our, ah, quirky Charlene, here, is _always_ silent. You, on the other hand, are _not_. So we are, ah, curious to why you _are_."

Ivy's lip twitched in her irritation. "The darkness of my cell is getting to me, is all. I can no longer hear my beloved plants. They've cut me off." She mumbled, her red hair covering her face. She seemed to have tears in her eyes.

"Oh, Red!" Harley cried. "Don't cry! It's okay!"

Ivy snapped her head up. "I'm not crying, you ditz." She hissed.

Harley flinched and looked down. She said nothing, and seemed to be ready to cry herself.

"Oh Harley." Ivy said, her voice disapproving. "Don't cry, now. I'm sorry."

Harley nodded and sniffed. The Joker seemed ready to burst into laughter at any moment. But what else is new?

The alarm went off to signal the end of lunch.

Today, which was Thursday, the schedule changed slightly. Instead of recreation right after lunch, it was group therapy for all patients.

Charlene was in group therapy with the Riddler, and nobody else from their group. She thanked whatever deity that controlled the universe that she wasn't put with Harley. If she had, she probably would have lost her mind. Again.

She sat quietly in her flimsy folding chair in a circle with the other patients. The doctor had not arrived yet, and they were all being watched by the hawk-like eyes of the guards.

A door opened and a clicking of heels sounded. It was Doctor Burke.

Charlene sneered slightly every time she saw Doctor Ashley Burke. Burke was that one bleached blonde, orange-skin, neon teeth, big breasted woman that you had no idea about how she got into medical school.

The worst part; She made the inmates play games.

"Hello all!" she said in her unnaturally perky voice. Nobody answered her, as per usual.

"Today, we will be doing some group work!" she continued, not even noticing the icy environment that greeted her. "So, pair up and pay attention! We'll be doing some socialization exercises!"

The Riddler immediately stood and claimed the seat next to Charlene, who couldn't care less who her partner was.

"We'll be getting to know our partners today, class." Burke said, as if she was speaking to a group of high school students. Charlene raised one eyebrow in disbelief, while Edward scoffed. One female inmate decided to speak up.

"Uh, I'm sure I'm not the only one in here wondering this," she started, her voice was scornful. "But what the _hell_ does this have to do with helping us 'recover'?"

Burke looked surprised that her methods were not understood. "Why, it's exactly what you people need to become stable! I believe that you are all in here because of poor socialization skills." She said cheerfully. "I'm guessing you all were unpopular in high school, unlike me, I was head cheerleader, you know. And I was the most-"

"I don't care." The woman snapped, cutting Burke off. "This is the _most_ fucking stupid thing I've ever had to do in this looney bin! I hardly think any of us here are in this place because of _poor social skills_."

"Well, are you the doctor? No." Ashley Burke said, her voice was taking on a defensive tone. "And if I say that it's poor social skills, then that's what you think, too."

The woman rolled her eyes and spat on the concrete floor. "Keegan Somner, here for raping and murdering twenty-six women," she said, pointing to a lean man. "Lindsay Justice, here for mutilating children. Edward Nygma, here for being… weird… no offense."

"None taken." Edward said in amusement, grinning.

"Now-…" Burke tried to speak, she was obviously embarrassed. Her cheeks were blotchy and red.

The woman continued. "John Miranda, experiments with attaching animal limbs to a child's body. Amanda Lesley, killing a bunch of people." She pointed to each person, who grinned when their name was called.

"Charlene Clark, killing women." She said, Charlene looked up when her name was said, but said nothing nor showed emotion. She pointed to herself next. "Penelope Sylvester. She killed her family. All of them; mom, dad, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Everybody. At a family reunion. No reason uncovered." She finished, looking quite proud of herself.

Burke was sputtering now; she did _not_ like being talked back to. "Miss. Sylvester! That was quite inappropriate!"

"Oh, like the amount of skin you're showing in a mental home? Yeah, in that case, it _is _pretty inappropriate." Penelope sneered, crossing her arms in satisfaction

"_Excuse me?_" Burke muttered dangerously. "At least I don't look like _you_; brunette, gangly, bony, _ugly_." She spat, pointing one, sharp, manicured finger at Penelope.

"My, doctor, you are acting _quite_ unprofessional, aren't you?" Penelope hissed with a grin, Burke's face heated up more. Penelope began to laugh under her breath,

"Guards! Take her back to her cell, _now_." Burke hissed, her calm tone was obviously forced.

Penelope snorted as two guards gripped her upper arms. "I _love_ how you think this is _punishment_." She sneered, stumbling out the metal doors.

The Riddler looked at Charlene. "Damn," he whispered under his breath. "Damn, I like _her_."

Charlene looked after the girl. Strangely enough, so did she.

...

Penelope sat in her cell, enjoying the memories of the mind games she played with that bimbo, _Doctor_ Burke. She snorted as she thought of the title. It was a joke. Everything was a joke.

Penelope wasn't hurt in the least by Ashley Burke's insults. To her, they weren't even insults. They were true, and she embraced them. She embraced her abnormalities as the way she was and the way she always would be.

She wasn't the prettiest girl in the world. She wasn't even the prettiest in the Asylum, which is saying something.

Pamela Isley and Charlene Clark were on the top of _that_ list.

But Penelope wasn't jealous, not at all. She couldn't give less of a shit what she looked like.

Penelope was very tall, very thin, very bony, and very gangly. There were a lot of 'very's in her description, and none of them were positive. Besides one thing, she had extremely beautiful hair, and that's the thing she prided herself on in her appearance. It was a rich auburn that was more on the brown side. It was grown to her waist with natural curls bouncing in it at all times.

Penelope had dull grey eyes, and a very pale complexion that made her stick out like a sore thumb in the summer. She enjoyed it though; she liked the stares she got. Penelope always loved attention, positive or no.

She raised one hand to inspect the short, chipped fingernails on her knobby fingers. Her hands were unnaturally long and thin, the joints stuck out of the calloused skin. Dirt always seemed to be stuck underneath the nails, not that she exactly cared.

It was the same everywhere. Her face was long, her ears, however, were small, her knees were knobby, her legs were long, her feet were large and thin, hell, even her _toes_ were long! The only thing _not_ abnormally large on her was her boobs. Barely anything.

And because of her ugly exterior and lack of breast tissues, she decided to have bust up top instead of her chest. She made it her business to know everything about everybody and every topic. That's how she knew the back stories of her group-therapy mates.

But again, Penelope didn't care. She didn't want to be the prettiest girl in the world. She liked attention, but she'd rather not have eyes on her boobs at all times.

Ugly girls got somewhere in the world, though Penelope blew _that_ chance a year and a half ago, when she was twenty one. She pursed her lips, and ignored the on-coming flashback of the reason she was in Arkham. She didn't like thinking about that sad shit. She masked all her feelings by carefree acts and smart ass comments. She thrived on that. Plus, she had the ongoing suspicion that a bunch of people were reading about her _right this second._ She glanced up into the ceiling, and then shook away the feeling of being watched.

Anyway, ugly girls got somewhere. Pretty girls… well… usually didn't get as far, in her opinion. Pretty girls worried too much about their love-life to pay attention and get good grades in high school and into a good college. Ugly girls didn't have that problem, though they spent a lot of their time _wishing_ they did.

So they got good grades, went to a renowned college, and made it as doctors, lawyers, or some other important job. Usually.

Pretty girls went to public colleges, got a decree in _make up_ or something fucking stupid like that, and then got married and worked part-time as beauticians or such. Bah.

Of course, this wasn't true for everyone. Ugly girls could be screws ups too, or pretty girls could be smart. It's all about the choices you make.

Penelope sneered as she thought of Ashley Burke again. She laughed quietly to herself. She probably slept her way to Arkham. She certainly did not go to college to be a psychologist.

Penelope thought of Charlene Clark, and how quiet she was. She wondered if she was just the quiet, intellectual type, or she was just dense.

Penelope half smiled at herself. She would make it her business to find out.

"C'mon, you. Your recovery period's up."

A tall man exited a dark room into the corridors. His face was shadowed by the lights, but his blue eyes were bright with life, almost glowing in the darkness.

...

**So! How was it? Another main OC had been revealed! Penelope, a very opinionated twenty two year old woman. I rather like her character, though she is quite offensive! Penelope will be featured very often in the future. She will have quite the roll in the coming chapters of the story. **

**I didn't like much of this chapter. The group therapy sucked, I rewrote it like seven times. I couldn't get it right… Damn. :/ I like the lunch room scene. How did Charlene know all that stuff about that chemical? I don't know. Well, I actually do, and you might, but I'm not telling if you don't. :) You'll find out. Maybe. **

**Oh my! Who WAS that at the end? Hmmmmmmmmmm.**

**Okay, so let me know what you thought! I think it still kinda sucked… but I'm very stressed with school and shit right now… so I'm sorry! ): **

**Who caught the Watchmen reference? :) What is ittt? :D**

**REVIEW, PLEASE! :D**

**I seriously squeal every time I see another review! No joke. It's kinda sad, actually… hahaha. :)**

**Later!**

**Jess**

**Lines from the next Chapter!**

"**No." –Charlene to Penelope**

"**Let me go! I-I don't… I don't like this! Stop!" – Harley to ? **


	7. Chapter 7

Charlene was scheduled for another one-on-one therapy with Greene today. She pursed her lips in thought of the last one she had, two days ago.

Greene had lost his composure a bit due to Charlene's lack of cooperation. She chuckled a bit at the memory of it.

'_So, Miss. Clark,' Greene started, fiddling with his fake gold watch. 'Why don't we talk about your parents today?'_

_Charlene didn't answer, she actually blatantly ignored his presence. Greene sighed quietly, he knew this wasn't going to be easy._

'_What were they like?' he tried again; Charlene didn't even look at him. _

'_Do you think you look more like your mother or your father?'_

_No answer. Charlene only blinked as she stared at the white wall ahead. Greene mumbled some foul words under his breath as he scribbled on his clipboard. _

'_Okay, how about this? I say a word, and you say the first word that pops into your head. If you do this… you can go.' Greene said slowly. 'Is it a deal?' He felt like he was making a compromise with a moody teenager._

'_Fine.'_

'_Good.' He said, relieved that she would comply this once. 'Mother.'_

'_Mother.' Charlene said at once._

'_Father.' Green tried again._

'_Father.'_

_Greene's jaw set in irritation. 'Gregory.'_

'_Gregory.'_

'_Arkham.'_

'_Arkham.'_

'_Cell.'_

'_Cell.'_

'_Doctor Liam Greene.'_

'_Idiot.'_

_Liam sighed loudly in irritation. He pinched the bridge of his nose hard, and bent over, resting his elbows on his knees._

'_I'm leaving now.' Charlene said quietly, and got up to leave. Liam Greene snapped just then._

'_No. You are _not_ leaving this room. _Sit. Down._' He growled, jumping in front of the door. Charlene was startled slightly and she calmly turned and sat back down on her leather chair._

'_You, _Charlene_, have been giving me nothing but trouble!' he said, his voice a higher volume than it needed to be. 'Every other patient here has at least had one conversation with me! I want to _help _you, and you just don't fucking seem interested!'_

_Charlene smiled, it was a small smile, but it was full of wicked pleasure. 'It seems, Doctor, that you don't like not getting your own way.' She commented._

_Greene made a noise at the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like an animal's growl._

'_Shut up!' he yelled, slamming his fist into the wall. The plaster cracked under the force of the impact. 'Just shut up!'_

'_I apologize, but I was under the impression that you_ wanted_ me to speak to you.' Charlene said, her voice was sarcastic. _

'_There you go again!' Liam yelled. 'I _can't_ take it any more! None of my patients have been this bad, you're worse than the Joker!'_

_Charlene's lips pursed at the name, she listened as Greene rambled on._

'He_ at least was responsive!' he continued. 'He actually told me things! Horrible things, yes, but things none the less! Of course he didn't want me to help him, he just played with my mind, but he wasn't nearly as frustrating as you! I didn't understand him, of course, but _you're_ unreadable! Damn it, you're _insane_!'_

_Charlene laughed softly, it was a chilling noise. 'I am tiring quickly of all of you _Doctors_ calling me insane.' She drawled. 'I assure you, it is quite old news.'_

'_Just get out!' Greene yelled, throwing open the door. 'I will see you tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day until you decide to be responsive! Good. Bye!' _

_Charlene complied, walking lazily out the door. _

The next day, Charlene found that Greene had taken a personal sick day. She found that quite funny.

But today, Thursday, he was back. And he scheduled a three hour long session, to make up for the day before. She was quite displeased that she'd have to spend three hours with the man.

She was taken from her cell at eight, right after breakfast. She would be there until eleven. Charlene was not looking forward to this.

As she entered Greene's office, something was off. It wasn't just Greene in the room, there was another man. His back was to her, lounging in one of the chairs. There was one directly across from him, and another facing the two chairs. She could guess which she was to sit in, but she decided to play dumb.

"Hello, Miss. Clark." Greene said, his voice was distracted as he furiously wrote on his desk. "Take the seat across from Mr. Crane, and we shall begin momentarily."

Charlene complied, though she was slightly confused, and sat in her plastic-covered black leather chair.

The man, Crane, seemed to be dozing off. She stared at him; her grey eyes searching, when suddenly, his eyelids flew up.

She immediately recognized his piercing blue eyes. This was Jonathan Crane.

Harley, Riddler, and the Joker were all out in the courtyard. It was such a nice day, that the faculty let the inmates out for an extra recreational time right after breakfast. They weren't complaining.

"Where's Charlene?" Harley asked, puzzled.

"Don't know." The Riddler answered, shrugging. "But speaking of missing psychopaths, where's Crane?"

"Isn't he still in solitary?" Harley asked, puzzled.

The Riddler shook his head. "No. I see him around now and again. I've been meaning to invite him to sit with us, but he disappears at lunch." He explained. "But he's usually sitting by himself, reading, during recreational time right over there," he pointed. "But I haven't seen him."

The Joker started to giggle. "Hmm, both Charlie _and_ Icabod are missing at once?" he said, waggling his green-tinted eyebrows. "Suspicious."

Edward snorted. "Yeah, sure, Joker." He drawled, shaking his head. "I'll bet they're getting it on in the broom closet right this second." His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

The Joker grinned. "Good, you agree with me, then!" he said pleasantly. Edward rolled his eyes, before seeing someone running towards him. It was a very angry-looking guard.

"Oh… shit…" Edward mumbled, getting up from his sitting position. "Looks like they found out who blew up the chili last week!" He ran off into a large group of inmates, the guard not too far behind. Joker was laughing madly, before looking at Harley, who was giggling softly.

"So," he started. "Alone at last." He grinned.

Harley laughed a bit nervously. "Uh, yeah."

"Why don't we go an, ah, follow Crane and Charlene's example, and find a nice and, ah, _cozy_ closet?" he suggested, his smile was rather creepy to Harley, who slid farther away from him on the bench.

Harley laughed softly, but didn't give an answer. She was nervous. She stood up, and fiddled with her inmate's jumpsuit awkwardly.

The Joker stood up with her, he was a head taller. "You look, ah, _nervous_." He said. "Is it the, ah, scars? Do you want me to tell you how I, ah, _got_ them?"

Harley's eyes widened, she shook her head 'no', and looked away. The Joker decided to play with her a bit, and quickly grabbed her around the waist, pulling her close against him and keeping her there.

"So I was just a, ah, little tyke when it happened…" he started, then realized she was blushing madly and she wouldn't look at him. "_Look. At. Me_." He growled, forcing her face to look up at his.

"No." she said stubbornly, and tried to push him away. For a skinny man, he was a lot stronger than he looked.

The Joker was becoming irritated, and he pinned her arms to her sides as he held her to him. Her neck was forced upwards with his other hand.

Harley was extremely uncomfortable and, she would never admit it but, _scared_. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held fast.

"Now, don't you go trying to, ah, get away." He said in a low voice. "Let me finish my, ah, _story_." He pulled her still even more roughly than before.

"Let me go!" Harley yelled, gasping for breath. "I-I don't… I don't like this! Stop!" She was able to violently push away from him. With that, she ran off, glancing past her shoulder at him with scared eyes.

The Joker laughed low in his throat. _'She'll be back…_' he thought, and he was right.

"I suppose you are wondering why Mr. Crane is joining us today, hm?" Liam Greene asked as he stood from his desk, starting to walk over to where the two were facing each other. "Well, because of my absence yesterday and the day before, I was inclined to push together my appointments to catch up on them. So I've decided to double up said appointments, and I will talk to two patients at every appointment today. I apologize for the, ah, _inconvenience._"

Charlene's eye twitched in irritation, she didn't like to be mocked.

"Anyway, are there any objections?" he sneered, taking his seat that was halfway between Charlene and Crane's. Jonathan continued to gaze at Charlene, appearing to size her up. Neither he nor Charlene made any motion of objection.

"Good." He nodded, and opened his notepad and clipped it into his clipboard. "Now, Mr. Crane here-.."

"That is _Doctor _Crane, thank you." Crane interrupted coldly, turning his ice blue stare onto Liam Greene for a moment, before returning his emotionless, searching eyes on Charlene once more. She stared back with equal disinterest, though she was semi-intrigued with his mysterious character.

Greene cleared his throat. "Fine. _Doctor_ Crane." He sighed. "Now since this is your first one-on-… oh, I apologize, _two _-on-one therapy session since you have been re-admitted to Arkham, I'd like to start with you, today. How are you? Do you feel more open to the therapy sessions designed to help your, ahem, _condition_?"

Crane adjusted his glasses lazily as he turned only his eyes on Greene. "Not exactly, _Doctor_." He answered crisply. "Though I _am_ slightly more inclined to come to therapy sessions as of now."

"And why is that?" Greene pressed obviously relieved that he was getting conversation from Jonathan.

"They seem to be more humorous than previously." Jonathan said coldly, resting the side of his face on his hand. "You see, I have noticed since my time released from solitary confinement that the staff here is becoming more and more, how you say, _sloppy_."

Greene's jaw set. "And why is that?" he repeated, though he only just managed to grind out a calm tone.

"I heard of the lunch incident last Wednesday." Crane sneered. "And of the many maiming of the staff incidents before that, and of the _women's shower room_ incident." He laughed softly. "When _I_ was a psychologist here at Arkham Asylum, we did not have _nearly _as many _accidents_ as you seem to be having now."

"And may I remind you, _doctor,_" Greene started in a clipped tone. "That when _you_ were a certified psychologist Gotham was in much worse shape than it is today, no thanks to _you_."

Crane chuckled again. "Are you quite sure about that, Liam?" he purred, glancing at Charlene. "Is Gotham _really_ better than it used to be? Or is that just a hope you 'sane' folk keep alive by false advertising and the so-called _hero_, _Bat_man?"

"You damn well know it's true!" Greene hissed. "You jus don't want to admit that your precious_ plan _from a few years back didn't work out."

"It was not _my_ plan, as you may remember." Crane shot back calmly. "I was merely in alliance with Ra's Al Ghul. He supplied me with my ingredients; I poured my _medicine_ into the sewers. I would never take the credit for such an ingenious idea."

"The hell it was ingenious! It could have wiped out Gotham!" Greene growled, tapping his clip board with his fingernails.

"That was the _point_ of the plan, my dear man, and _that_ is why it is _so_ ingenious." Crane pointed out, highly enjoying having superior intellect against this 'doctor'.

"The two most _irritating _inmates in Arkham, and I had to put them together in _one_ therapy session…." Greene muttered sourly. "How stupid can one person be?"

"In your case, very." Charlene piped up, determined to not let this new man beat her in insulting one-liners. Jonathan chuckled airily at that comment, while Greene groaned in irritation.

"Now, what is this _charming_ young woman's name?" he asked Greene, his thin lips curving up in Charlene's direction. "I do not think you introduced us properly, doctor."

Liam rolled his eyes, though neither of them saw. "Charlene Clark. Killed a bunch of women because she hates moms." He said quickly in a bored tone.

"Now I'm sure there is much more to the story than _that_, my dear doctor." Jonathan said quietly, turning back to Charlene. "Care to tell me about it? I _am_ a psychologist, after all." He purred, turning on his charm.

Charlene blinked. "I do not, as you might say, 'spill' to random men, Mr. Crane." She said, her need to be difficult seizing through her will to be polite to this man, who intrigued her. She purposefully used 'Mr.' "Furthermore, I have more _psychologists_ in my life right now than I'd care to have; I have no need for another."

Jonathan nodded slightly in agreement. "Yes, yes, I suppose you're correct." He murmured, adjusting his glasses. "But I'd quite like to speak to you again, Ms. Clark."

"We shall see about that." Charlene said airily, before swiftly standing at the sound of the alarm, and exiting the room to be escorted to her cell.

"Leave." Greene told Crane gruffly. "It seems you ate up all of my time with Miss. Clark as well as your own with your antics. We will pick this up _solo_ next Monday. Be gone."

Crane nodded curtly and slowly exited the room. Charlene was a woman of mystery, the fact that her whole past and psychological history was a blank canvas for him was intriguing enough for the man.

He wanted to hear it. All of it.

Her fears, her aspirations, her hates, her loves, everything. He wanted to dissect her character, find her fears, and exploit them.

He would break her. And he would enjoy it.

Charlene awoke the next day disturbed. Her dreams were much different than the days before. It involved that girl, Penelope, and somebody else whom she didn't recognize besides the fact that it was male. She only saw his silhouette.

_Her parents and brother were there, leaning over a fresh, unmarked grave. They all turned to her, their bodies rotten and decayed. Flesh hung from their faces to reveal white bone, and their hair was not hair, but masses of maggots crawling in and out of open cracks and sores on their skulls. Bits of brain matter speckled their clothing as the maggots ate away, only the man stayed normal. He showed no signs of being a 'zombie', though he was a mere silhouette._

_Her father fell first, his decaying body crumpling under the weigh of gravity. He sprawled out on the fresh dirt of the grave, his ribs cracked at the impact and split through the thin skin, shining white in the moonlight._

_Charlene reeled, the sight scared her immensely, and she usually never got scared._

_Her brother, Gregory, merely glared at her, an amber-colored substance dripping down his chin, dribbling onto his tattered clothing. The amount of the liquid became heavy, before long it had soaked the entire front of his shirt and was working its' way onto his faded jeans. _

_Charlene just stared, until she heard a loud 'crack!'. Greg's neck had cracked, and slowly, through the sickening sound of snapping bones, his head dropped to the ground. Greg's severed head screamed, and Charlene covered her ears in horror as more amber liquid squirted from the empty space between his shoulders and hit her in the face. White, splintered bone poked through the grey, rotten skin. Greg's body fell to the ground, and writhed._

_Finally, it was just Charlene and her mother. Her mother still had her serene beauty, even in death. She was no better, decay wise, than the other two, but Charlene could only see the beautiful, aged woman from her last memory of her._

"_Charlene…" she whispered, her voice was nothing more than a rustle of wind. It was cracked and rusty, as if not used in a long time._

_Her mother, whose name had been Michelle in life, reached for her daughter's cheek. Instantly, she lived once more, as if she was feeding off of Charlene's life force. Her soft smile turned malicious as she felt life pulse through her body again._

"… _You will pay." She finished, her voice taking back it's usual, musical tone from life. Her mouth twisted into a gruesome snarl. _

_Charlene screamed in pain as her mouth continued to suck her life into her own body. She struggled to pull free, but her mother grabbed her face with both hands, long, manicured nails pierced her neck, drawing blood._

"_I gave you life, and I can take it away." Michelle whispered dangerously as Charlene felt her face cracking. Blue veins covered her body, and blood oozed from her eyes as if they were tears. _

"_I killed you too, mom." Charlene croaked, her voice was painful to use now. "And everyone who reminded me of you. And I can do it again." _

_Michelle mirthlessly laughed; it was not unlike Charlene's. "You didn't kill me. You could never kill me. I remember what dying mothers usually say to their kids in movies, 'I will always be with you, inside your heart'. Ha! That's quite the accurate line, dear. I never left, I haunted you. Drove you insane, drove you to murder."_

"_Well, you never were the 'model mother', were you?" Charlene hissed, she swayed in her mother's grasp, her legs gave out and Michelle let her fall to the dead leaf-covered ground._

_Michelle laughed again, throwing her head back in the effort. Her blonde hair flipped over her shoulder, and her green eyes were clenched tight._

"_I see where I got my insanity from." Charlene muttered bitterly, still sprawled over the leaves. "I find nothing humorous in this situation."_

"_Oh, dear, I'm not insane!" Michelle said dismissively, waving her hand as she recovered from her laughing fit. "You're just an irresistibly funny person, with your naïve notions about life and sarcastic remarks." _

_Charlene gritted her teeth. "I hate you." She croaked, inspecting her now-decaying body. _

_Michelle gasped mockingly. "No! Don't say things like that, I didn't mean it!" she cackled, faking being hurt. "Tell me something I don't know, dear. But just to reassure you, I hate you too." She smiled mockingly._

"_Ya know what, bitch? Go fuck yourself." Another voice from behind said angrily. Charlene turned her creaking head, to see that girl from therapy. Penelope. _

"_Oh yes, the ugly girl's here." Michelle drawled lazily, grinning. "I was wondering when you'd show up."_

_Penelope shrugged. "Better to be ugly than an old bitch." She said smoothly, sneering. _

_Michelle's eyes flashed angrily for a moment, before returning to their calm look. "Yes, well, hasn't your mother taught you to not meddle in other's affairs? Be gone before I-.."_

"_What? Gonna call the po-po on me? I do believe we're chillin' in dream land right now." She snickered, and then turned to Charlene. "Which reminds me, what the fuck, Clark? This is a weird-ass dream."_

"_I don't pick my dreams." Charlene said dryly, a sour look on her face. _

"_Well, isn't a 'dream a wish your heart makes'?" she asked, quoting the Disney movie Cinderella. "You got some pretty messed up wishes, babe."_

"_Clever." Charlene said sarcastically, before noticing a rustling in the leaves. "What now?"_

"_Oh, that's just my friends coming to play." Michelle said lazily as rotting hands broke from the earth around Charlene. They latched on to her, and started to drag her down._

_Charlene screamed, for the first time, in pure terror. Her vision was becoming blurred as Penelope leaped at her mother, who screamed in anger. _

"_You're going to where you belong, bitch!" her mother spat at Charlene. "Hell!"_

_Charlene writhed in the demented hands' grip, but they held her in a steely grasp. She started to hear shrieks of crazed laughter from below her. She screamed again, thrashing. _

_The silhouette from earlier suddenly appeared in her darkening vision, but it wasn't a silhouette anymore. It was Jonathan Crane._

"_Don't worry, Charlene! I'll kill this bitch again!" Penelope yelled, wrestling with Charlene's mother, who was snarling like an animal. _

"_No!" she screamed, staring at Jonathan as she was pulled into the earth. "I'll be back. I'll kill her myself."_

_With that, she was dragged into her own, personal corner of hell._

Charlene inspected her hands, they were normal. It _was_ just a dream.

She sighed as she felt the tears on her cheeks begin to dry. It had been a long time since she'd cried.

She had never dreamed so vividly before.

Charlene shook her head, clearing her mind. Dreams were merely that, dreams. Figments of the unconscious mind. She turned over, and went back to sleep.

**Woooow, long ass chapter! :o**

**So, what'd you think? I hope you enjoyed the mild Jonathan/Charlene action. And what about Harley and Joker? Hmmmm! Strange behappenings!**

**Anyway, I'd like to thank you all for the reviews! They make my day! 8D**

**I know the dream was uber random, but it has a point. I promise. **

**Let me know what you liked and what you disliked! I DO want to know, via review or via PM! **

**So, anyway, I'm sorry it took so long for this! It took me forever to find time! D;**

**Next time: More Charlene/Jonathan, and Penelope will be featured.**

**By the way, I need ideas for behappening! I want to know what YOU guys want to happen! I have the basic outline, but I need more than what I have to fill it up! PM me with your ideas, and maybe I'll use them! I'd looove to hear from you gaiz! 8D**

**Lotsa Love!**

**Jess**


	8. Chapter 8

Charlene was surprised, mildly of course, when she entered the lunch room the next day. There were two more residents joining the usual idiots sitting at her table.

As she approached, she recognized them. It was Jonathan Crane and Penelope… something.

Charlene was greeted with the usual afternoon 'hellos' and 'how are you's, never to be returned. She didn't smile, but she nodded in acknowledgement.

Penelope got up from where she was sitting, and moved to sit across from Charlene.

"Hey. I'm Penelope Sylvester." She said, being sociable. Actually, she wanted to get the dirt on Charlene. She made everything her business, and Charlene was no different.

"I know." Charlene said indifferently. She pulled out a book she smuggled into the lunch room and began to read as she picked at her food.

Penelope glanced at the title. "Oh, _Romeo and Juliet_? Why would you read that?"

Charlene flipped a page. "I have never read it." She answered, distracted.

Penelope blinked. "But isn't it, like, the unofficial book you _always_ read in high school?" she pointed out. "I had to read it four times."

Charlene fingered the edge of a page, and then flipped it. "No." she said, her eyes flying around the new page.

"Oh." Penelope mumbled, obviously not used to Charlene's quiet, indifferent ways.

"Don't worry about her; she's naturally cold and unfeeling." Edward piped up, smiling at Penelope.

Charlene gave him a blank look, before returning to her book. Edward knew Charlene long enough to realize that the blank look was actually Charlene's equivalent of a dirty look.

Penelope's thin features lifted into a smile. "You're Edward Nygma." She said, it wasn't a question.

"The one and the same." Edward said, smiling back at her. "Riddle me this, what gets wetter as it dries?"

Penelope rolled her eyes. "A towel. What do you think I am? A fucking third grader?"

Edward smiled. "Well you're small enough to be one!" he teased lightly.

Penelope raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? I'm six foot, thank you very much." She retorted.

Edward snorted. "I'm six foot six." He pointed out. Penelope scowled.

"Suck my dick." She hissed, and smiled challengingly.

"Are you implying that you indeed _have_ one?" Nygma said, raising a brow.

"Why don't you find out?" Penelope teased, crossing her thin, pale arms over her flat chest.

Edward rolled his eyes again. "Why do women say that, anyway?" he asked.

"Say what?" Harley asked, she was sitting next to Edward, but she didn't seem to be listening. She was busy glancing uneasily at the Joker, who seemed to be having a field day within his mind. Nobody was complaining.

"'Suck my dick' and the like." Edward explained. "Why do girls say that?"

"Don't know." Penelope said, and shrugged. "All I know is its fun to say."

"It's still weird." He mumbled.

"No, you know what's weird?" Penelope said, leaning back in her plastic lunch chair. "How girls say 'suck my dick' all the time, but no guy would _dare_ to say 'lick my vagina'. What's up with that?"

Harley giggled at the profanity, while Charlene rolled her eyes at the immaturity brought into her normally semi-normal lunch table. She glared at her book, trying to concentrate on what she was reading, though she positively hated the book.

Harley looked at Charlene. "Geez, Charlene. Why the angry glare at your book?" she asked.

"It is a positively horrid book." Charlene answered, and then took a bite of a carrot stick from her tray.

Harley nodded. "Yeah, I get ya. It's so romantic, but so sad." She said, trying to sympathize. "It's such a tragic love story."

"What are you talking about?" Charlene demanded, now glaring at Harley. "This is not a romantic story in the least."

Harley looked surprised. "Of course it is! Young love, tryin' to stand up to the man!"

Charlene snorted, but said nothing. She continued to read, albeit her sour expression that deepened as she progressed through the story.

Jonathan Crane had been sitting diagonal from Charlene, next to Penelope, and he had been staring at Charlene all through lunch so far.

"I agree with Miss. Clark." He said simply, it was the first thing he had said that day. He said them so quietly that the roar of the cafeteria almost drowned out his quiet voice. Charlene doubted that he had even said them, and continued to read.

"Of course _you_ would." Harley mumbled sourly, picking at her food. She glanced at the Joker, who was laughing at a private joke, before glaring at her peas aggressively.

Edward glanced at Harley; it was unusual for her to be in such a sour mood. "What's wrong?" he asked. "You're usually the least bitchy girl here."

"Nothin'." Harley mumbled, forcing herself not to look at the Joker.

Edward shrugged, and continued eating. And awkward silence settled over the lunch table.

"Anyone want to hear a joke?" the Joker asked suddenly, popping out of his trance-like state.

Everyone at the table looked at him expectantly, except Charlene who couldn't care less.

"What do you call a fly with no wings?" he asked. "A _walk_." He started giggling madly as he said the punch line, and nobody knew what the _hell_ he said. They all looked at him strangely, and went back to the awkward silence.

When the alarm went off, and Charlene jumped up, still reading her book, dumped her tray, and slipped out the door without waiting for anybody.

"My, she is quite the icy soul, hm?" Crane commented to Penelope. She smiled crookedly.

"Yeah, she really is." Penelope answered, chuckling. "She's given her therapist a bunch of nervous breakdowns, and our group therapist has cried at least four times from her insults."

Crane laughed softly as his eyes watched the spot where Charlene disappeared. "That does not surprise me." He said back, beginning to walk out the door with Penelope. "Out of pure curiosity, what did she do to be deemed insane?"

Penelope waved her hand. "She killed a bunch 'a moms. Pretty damn brutality, too." She shrugged.

Crane nodded absently. "Interesting, she does not seem like a murderer."

"I totally agree." She answered, pushing her way outside. "I mean, she's a chemist. A bookworm chemist, at that. I have no idea how she managed to break a chick's neck, or beat someone to death."

Jonathan's interest was peaked at 'chemist'. He had had no idea that she had been in a profession close to what he did when he was not in Arkham, when he mixed his fear toxins.

"But she did, and she admitted to the shit in court." Penelope continued, looking up at Jonathan. "Crazy shit up in here, hm?"

Crane smiled, albeit absently. He was lost in his thoughts. "Yes." He answered, and then looked down at Penelope. "Hm, did you say that your name was Penelope Sylvester?"

Penelope grinned. "Fuck yeah I did." She said happily, waving at another inmate. "And you're fucking Jonathan Crane."

"That I am." Jonathan nodded, and then continued with his point. "Were you not a main reporter on the _Gotham Gazette_, before you were sent here?"

Penelope's face fell slightly, but then her normal happy look returned. "Yup, big scandal when I was locked up here, in the wacky shack." She said casually. "But fuck, when a chick kills her family, how can you _not_ lock her up in the looney bin, right?"

Crane smiled, less absently this time. "Yes." He agreed quietly, not wishing to offend the girl. There was a pause in which neither of them spoke.

"So…" Penelope held out the 'o' for a bit. "I guess I don't have to ask ya why _you're_ in here, doc. I mean, I reported on the story for a motherfuckin' month."

"I imagine it was also a widespread scandal." He said, sitting on a bench close to Harley, Joker, Riddler, and Charlene.

Penelope laughed, sitting on the ground next to his feet. "Don't get too big-headed there, doc. It was more on Ra's Al Ghul and the escaped inmates than you after the first day."

Jonathan cracked a smile, but said nothing. Penelope leaned back onto the stone bench, soaking in the lukewarm sunlight that peaked through the tall trees beyond their electric fence.

"How was it?" she asked. "Y'know, on the _outside_?"

"You speak of it as if it is another world." Jonathan commented. Penelope chuckled.

"Yeah, well, it is anymore. I haven't been farther than this yard in a while." She answered. "So, answer the damn question."

"The same, I suppose." He said, adjusting his glasses.

Penelope looked up at him. "Just… the same?"

"Yes. It has not changed very significantly in the past years." He shrugged. "My toxins have not changed very much, either. The Batman makes sure of _that_. He always seems to locate my whereabouts right when I begin to make a breakthrough."

Penelope shrugged. "Wouldn't know, myself. I've never met the damn guy, but everyone else here in the Coo-Coo Hut seems to be a-hatin' on him." She chuckled. "Wonder why."

"More than seventy-five percent of the asylum's 'patients' are here either because Batman caught them in criminal activities and were named criminally insane, or he testified against them in court for being criminally insane." Crane informed her.

Penelope chuckled. "That was a rhetorical question, hon. I'm a reporter. I know these things. But thanks for the statistics."

Crane smirked. "Any time." He said, and fell silent.

Penelope stretched her legs out on the grass. "So…." She held out the 'o' for a good five beats. "I did some investigating, before I came in here, of course, of who the Batman was."

Crane raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah, I investigated the hotshots around Gotham. Harry Denville, Justin Brae, Norris Kendal, you know, the guys who would be able to afford all the bad-ass shit Batman's got. I even looked into Bruce Wayne."

"What did you find, if you don't mind me asking?"

Penelope shrugged again. "Not much. Actually, to be completely fuckin' honest, nothin' at all. The only tiny clue I had was for Bruce Wayne. Batman turned up right around the time that he 'poofed' back into society, and took his father's company back. But that's hardly anything, it's barely a clue. It's probably just a fucking coincidence."

"Maybe, but it could also be a lead on quite a story." Crane said. He glanced over at Charlene, who was on the grass, leaning against her own bench in the same manner as Penelope.

"So? Can't help me now, cannit?" Penelope shrugged. "But that's behind me. I just wish my future was a bit brighter than the grey walls of this hell."

"I can't imagine that you could not be able to escape. It's actually quite an easy task, if you know the right people."

"What's the point? I don't feel like being hunted down. Plus, I get to fuck with people's minds in here. Free food. I just gotta deal with bullshit from my therapists and such."

Crane nodded absently, and said nothing more.

The alarm went off, and the inmates all headed to the door.

"It was great talking to you." Penelope said, getting up. "We should do it more often. You're too fucking quiet for your own good."

Jonathan smiled. "Thank you. I enjoyed our chat immensely." Then, we walked off. Penelope couldn't see, but he was headed towards Charlene, who was munching on an extra apple from lunch, and reading her book as she entered the building.

"Hello, Miss. Clark, was it?" he said, greeting her.

"Don't pretend you forgot my name." Charlene snapped softly, swallowing her apple piece. "You and I both know that you fully remember it, you just wanted an excuse to speak to me for some reason or another."

Jonathan cleared his throat. "Yes, quite. I apologize. My name is-"

"Jonathan Crane." Charlene interrupted impatiently.

"Yes. I merely wanted to introduce myself as such, I apologize for irritating you."

Charlene said nothing, her eyes continuing to fly around the page.

"I hear you are a chemist."

"Yes."

"That is quite interesting. You see, I am also in the 'chemist' field of study, as you may know."

"Yes."

Jonathan cleared his throat again. "Where did you work? Before you came here, I mean."

"KCC, Keegan Community College."

"Oh? Were you a professor there?"

"No. I was merely a lab assistant."

Jonathan studied Charlene for a moment, not saying anything. She was quite a quiet, icy person. A mystery, an untold tale. Mysteries and the unknown were two of Jonathan's favorite subjects.

He must find out more.

"Now if you will excuse me." Charlene interrupted his thoughts. "I must return to my cell. And, as I recall, the _male_ cell blocks are down _that_ hallway." Without another word, Charlene turned the corner, and returned to her cell.

Crane smirked to himself as he himself headed to his own cell.

...

Charlene didn't know what had come over her.

She had felt a strange need to be rude to the man, Jonathan Crane.

Well, he _was_ invading her personal space.

And he _did_ push into her personal life.

But it was neither of those things that made her so irritable. She had been angry at him for no apparent reason _before_ he had even spoken to her.

Charlene lay in her bed, running over that period of time between lunch and her encounter with Jonathan.

She had no idea. But something about the way he spoke with Penelope made her skin crawl. The girl, she liked. She was straightforward and intelligent. But the things they talked about, somehow, they just _bothered _her.

Was she jealous?

Inpossible.

How juvenile. Why would she be _jealous_? What was she in? High school all over again?

No. There was a _logical_ reason to why she was irritated.

She opened up _Romeo and Juliet_, but all thoughts out of her mind, and set out to finish the book.

**Sorry that this took so long, guys! I feel sooo bad! But, y'know, end of school shit goin' onn. So… y'know.:) **

**I hope you loved this chapter as much as I looooved writing it! **

**SEND ME FEEDBACK, VIA REVIEW OR PM. I adore it. Love it. CRAVE it. ;) **

**Next time!: …. I don't even know, guys. It'll be good though. Promise!:) It'll probably feature more Harley/Joker and Penelope/Edward. Less Crane action for now, cause I gawt some BIIIG plans for him! **

**So let me now what you thought! I wanna know what I can do better, and what I should keep the same! Love ya!**

**Jess**


	9. Chapter 9

**CAUTION:** There are a few minorly to intermediately suggestive themes in this chapter. Nothing explicit or anything, but there are suggestive themes via Pamela and others. This is pretty lustful chapter. There is attempted rape involved, as well. Dark themes like this lie ahead, if you are uncomfortable, I will put warning labels around the bad parts in later chapters so you can skip the naughty parts. I'll have a summary at the beginning of the next chapter just in case some were too uncomfortable to fully read this. Enjoy, either way.

…

For the first time since her transformation, Pamela Isley was jealous.

She could barely admit this fact to herself. But there was no possible way she could lie to herself about it anymore.

Though Harley hadn't spoken to the Joker much in the two months since… something happened between them (Harley never told Pamela), she still _looked _at him.

And it wasn't just a look, a glance, a mere sight of somebody.

It was a _look_. It lingered in her eyes, even when she turned away from him. Poison Ivy could see it plain as day.

Harley was falling in love with the Joker.

No matter how much the thought sickened Pamela, it was true. She could tell.

She wanted to scoff at the whole situation. Harley had known the Joker for seven months. That's it. Only Harley would fall in love that quickly.

And with a _psychopath_.

Harley knew better than anybody that fact. She spent the most time with him out of anybody at the Asylum. Pamela would bet her diamond necklaces that she spent more time with him than the therapists themselves.

Ivy was laying on her bed in her special cell, filled with a thick, red fog that reduced her power to almost nonexistence.

Why was she so jealous?

Yes, she felt a love for Harley. A sisterly love, something that she'd felt for Harley since they became partners. And Pamela was known to have issues with sharing what she loved…

But was this schoolgirl jealousy really necessary?

Ivy was scowling as she stood, and walked to the glass doors of her cell. It was shower day, and they only got five minutes under the water. Though most of the inmates didn't care that they were filthy, Pamela made every second under the blissfully scalding water count.

She walked with the crowd of women to the showers. Pamela smiled slightly at Harley as they met up, and Harley grinned back.

As Pamela and Harley entered the showering area, the former became more and more agitated. Something about today wasn't _right_. She couldn't figure it out, but she had this sensation that some big things were going to happen today.

This inkling was amplified as soon as she looked around the shower room. The usual women guards were no where to be found, and there were large, burly men in the usual guard spots.

Pamela was enraged.

"You ladies know the drill, five minutes. Strip and get it over with, yeah?" the head guard called, and most of the female inmates began to shamelessly strip and started to shower.

Pamela and Harley stood their dumbly.

"C'mon, you two!" the nearest guard said to them.

Pamela sniffed. "I hardly think that I will be showering in the presence of fifteen men." She retorted, and crossed her arms. Harley nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Yeah? Then you don't shower. For a week." The guard said, with a nasty, thin-lipped smile. Pamela's scowl deepened, but then it turned into a saucy smile.

"Very well." She said finally, and began to shimmy out of her already-scant clothing. Harley stared in disbelief as Pamela stripped completely naked, right in front of the guard, who was trying hard to keep a straight face.

"I hope you don't mind holding these?" Ivy asked sensually, holding out her bra and panties as well as her inmate's shirt. The guard took them wordlessly, staring at her perfect curves.

Pamela put a hand on her hip as she strutted towards the shower, and began to wash herself – very sensually, at that. Harley was completely dumbstruck, but followed Pamela's lead…. Albeit she undressed very discreetly and her cheeks burned red as she did it.

When the water was turned off, Pamela continued her seductive façade, and even toweled off sexily. She flipped her wet, burning red hair back and smiled saucily at the guards, who were blatantly staring. She approached the one who had spoken to her slowly, the towel loosely around her body.

Harley knew what she was doing a fraction of a second before she did,

"No! Red!" she screamed in terror, Pamela hadn't used this power in nearly four years! "Don't!"

But it was too late. Ivy kissed the guard softly on the lips. When she finished, she pulled back, and he convulsed in pain. He suddenly froze, sighed in agony, and fell to the ground, dead. Green veins stuck out, branching through his facial features. She had poisoned him.

Immediately, the guards snapped out of their spell, and grabbed her.

Pamela was screeching madly as they restrained her, and Harley was frightened. Red hadn't shown her insanity for quite some time. Harley knew that her best friend was insane… but Pamela hid it well. It was the toxins. They had messed with her mind.

Pamela was cackling madly as the men escorted her and the rest of the inmates out of the shower room. Harley stood there, stark naked and terrified for Pamela.

She was alone, or so… she thought she was alone. She turned, and one guard was left.

Harley quickly crossed her legs and tried to cover herself. "Er… I'll just… get dressed and head back to my cell…" she said awkwardly, and backed up to get her clothing.

As soon as she turned to dress, she was yanked back, the guard pushing her onto the ground.

"That won't be necessary." He grunted, crushing his lips against hers. She screamed in terror, but it was muffled by his mouth.

Fortunately for Harley, she was trained in acrobatics and a few forms of martial arts, due to her status as a thief. She easily kicked him in the gut, and punched him across the face, retreating a few feet.

"You like it rough, hm? I can dig that." The guard growled, kneeling on the ground and wiping the blood off his cheek. He lunged for her as she ran for the shower room doors. He gripped her arms tightly, and pulled her back.

Harley screeched as he held her against him, immobilizing her arms as he forcibly kissed her. She bit his tongue fiercely, and scrambled away once more.

This time, the guard didn't play around. When he caught her, he twisted both her arms around her back, and held them there with one hand. He roughly bent her over the table that the women put their clothing on, and used his foot to spread her legs.

When Harley heard him unbuckling his belt, she began to whimper and cry. He had just begun to push into her, when he was gone, his hand wrenched from her wrists. Harley turned around slowly, sniffing, and he man was on the floor.

The Joker was crouched above him.

"Can't you, ah, get women in other, ah, ways?" he giggled, and proceeded to dismember the man violently. Harley stood there in the nude, watching with scared eyes.

When he had finished, the Joker smiled at his handiwork, and then turned to look at Harley.

Her blonde hair was dripping, and she was naked, but she felt no shame. Even in the way he gazed at her exposed body, she only felt… gratitude.

"C'mon, ah, Harley." He said in his form of 'gentle', and stepped towards her with a helping hand extended.

Harley gazed at him, and the Joker detected something strange in her eyes.

As he neared her, she did the unexpected.

She lunged at him.

But not threateningly, no. She threw herself onto him, and crashed her lips onto his. He was surprised, but none-the-less kissed her back. She arched into him, pressing the length of her body against his.

She quickly turned the kiss passionate, and tangled her hands in his blonde hair. Her wrapped his arms around her narrow waist and pressed himself into her.

It felt like an eternity before they came up for air.

"Is that the way you, ah, say 'thank you'?" the Joker said, laughing. "Cause I could get, ah, _used_ to that."

Harley gave the Joker a sultry smile. "Hey. How bout you an' me blow this popsicle stand?" she asked, grinning. Her Brooklyn accent thickened with every word. She had lost it over her years with Pamela, her green friend hated the unsophisticated way it sounded.

The Joker laughed. "Couldn't of put it better, ah, myself." He said, and kissed her hard once more before grabbing her wrist and zooming out of the shower area.

…..

Charlene was mildly concerned that both the Joker and Harley did not show up for dinner that day. She glanced around, but sat at her usual, off to the side seat, and began to eat in silence.

"Anyone else notice a lack in blonde and psychopath?" The Riddler piped up after a few minutes.

"And red haired whore?" Penelope said, glancing around. It was only the four of them; Penelope, Riddler, Charlene, and Jonathan. Pamela had been sent to the medical wing for treatment.

Charlene silently agreed. She was sitting next to Jonathan today, and he kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, thinking she didn't notice. But she noticed, yes.

"I have not seen them since yesterday." Jonathan offered in a bored tone. "But I imagine that the Joker has escaped once more, possibly taking Miss. Quinn with him."

Riddler considered that. "Hm, yes. I suppose that could be a possibility. But what about, as the charming Penelope so classily put it, 'the red haired whore?'" Penelope grinned.

Jonathan said nothing, following Charlene's lead. The alarm signaling end of dinner sounded. Charlene left wordlessly, seeming to be in deep thought. Riddler and Penelope left together, having an animated conversation. Crane looked after Charlene, before following her.

Charlene was annoyed when she realized that Crane had, once again, followed her to her cell.

"Can I assist you in some way, Mr. Crane, or are you merely reverting to your rather irritating stalker ways once more?" she asked quietly over her shoulder.

Jonathan chuckled low in his throat. "Not at all, Ms. Clark. I just wish to escort you to your living facilities, like a gentleman." He insisted, amused.

"I highly doubt that there is anything 'gentle' about a sociopath with a duel personality. But very well." She said, emotionless, continuing to walk down the dark corridors. She noted the strange absence of orderlies and guards.

Jonathan set his jaw at the mention of Scarecrow. It probed something inside his mind; the Scarecrow wanted to play with her.

Jonathan was suddenly slammed with the full force of Scarecrow. He _wanted _to play with her. _Now_. He groaned as the buzzing in his head started, feeling as if there were thousands of bees inside his head, slamming against the inside of his cranium.

And then, just like that…

Jonathan was no longer present.

Scarecrow looked down at Charlene, who had been staring up at Jonathan, while removing Jonathan's glasses from his face.

Against her better judgement, she asked the question on her tongue.

"Are you well?"

Scarecrow lunged at her much like Harley had at the Joker. He slammed her against the wall with no concern for her health. Her head smacked the wall as she landed between him and the wall.

"**No.**" Scarecrow answered, grinning maniacally.

Charlene moaned softly from the pain in the back of her head, and in her back from the blow. "Was that completely necessary?" she demanded, and kept her voice monotone through her pain. She stared emotionlessly into his eyes, and was unsettled when she realized that they were no longer shockingly blue, but a deep, dangerous black.

Scarecrow shrugged. "**Certainly not. But it is rather amusing to see you, who shows no emotion, suffer pain while struggling to keep your cold, uncaring mask on.**"

Charlene stared coldly at the man. "I suppose I am speaking to your other, Jonathan. Very well. What do you call yourself?" she asked.

Scarecrow pressed his forehead to Charlene's forcefully, causing her to once again slam her throbbing cranium against the concrete wall. "**No Jonathan here. Only Scarecrow.**" He growled.

Charlene simply stared at Scarecrow, saying nothing more.

Without another word, Scarecrow crashed his lips down on Charlene's. Her eyes widened, and she did not respond.

When he had stopped, Charlene still said nothing.

Scarecrow laughed maniacally. "**Well, I see that you certainly are well practice to keep your mask on in all sorts of situations… but what about this?**" he said, his voice suggestive. He slid one of his hands, which were resting on either side of Charlene's head on the concrete wall, and started to slide it down her body. He stopped at her most secretive of places, and only merely brushed it with the back of his hand.

Charlene took this chance, and slipped out from between Scarecrow and the wall. Her head pounded painfully.

Scarecrow chuckled again, looking at her from over his shoulder. She began to walk down the hallway once more, trying to return to her cell.

He caught up with her once more. "**Hold on now…**" he whispered in her ear, and grasped her arms painfully, and bruising her lips with another kiss.

Charlene didn't respond once more, even when he forced his tongue into her mouth.

Suddenly, she convulsed against him.

No. Not again. This was all too familiar. Her mind flashed back to her younger years, when she lost control. It was never a good thing when she came out…

Her head pounded even harder as he heart sped up. Scarecrow released her from his hold, curious. He watched her convulse, it was as though she was having a seizure. Charlene gasped for air, and fought it back.

No! She would not let it come out. Control must be maintain, who knows what would happen.

Charlene dug her fingernails into her pant leg, hoping the pain would keep her from doing dormant in her own mind. She leaned her back against the concrete wall to her left, sliding down into a ball.

Her face was whitening with her effort. She was fighting a losing battle. She didn't understand the emotions that had gone through her as Scarecrow kissed her. She had enjoyed it? She couldn't grasp the concept of anything but her cold demeanor. That is what triggered this; her lack of understanding; her lack of control.

Finally, Charlene laid still. She had stopped convulsing.

What looked up at Scarecrow was not Charlene.

"Hmm… well, that was certainly a difficult feat." She mused to herself, her voice was amused. She stood, jutting a hip out when she was fully standing, and putting a hand on her hip.

A product of Charlene's lack of emotion, this was the end result. She repressed emotion to a point that her mind had created a separate consciousness to embody the repressed emotion.

Though it was possible that a positive result could have come to be, this was not this being.

This being was made of carnage and bloodlust, hate, passion, greed, anger, and lust.

Charlene named this being when she in high school, when the being came out more than any time in her life, due to Charlene's immense confusion in emotions.

She named it the Maenad, after the women who followed Dionysus in Greek mythology. This word translates to 'raving one'. They caused Dionysus to wreck havoc. This is what this being did to the modern world.

"Why, hello there handsome. Have I been a good girl this year? Has Santa brought you for me to play with?" the Maenad asked playfully, gazing at Scarecrow with unmasked sexual interest.

Scarecrow was simply shell shocked. He stared at the former Charlene with interest. She had been hiding such a remarkable mental feat not unlike Jonathan's own.

"What? Am I so beautiful that you have no words left?" she teased, approaching him slowly. "That's alright; I have a few ideas as to activities that don't require any words."

"**Well this is a certainly an interesting change of events**." Scarecrow said. "**And what is your name, gorgeous**?"

The Maenad laughed and shook her head. "I'd simply _love_ to tell you, hot stuff. But I gotta split while I got control. Never know when Miss. I-Don't-Care-I'm-Too-Cold-For-You is gonna be back." She said, and turned around. "Maybe I'll see you around, cutie. Hit me up, I'll _definitely _be up for a little… fun…. At a later date."

"**How about right now**?" Scarecrow growled, moving behind her and grabbing her wrist.

The Maenad laughed harder, and easily brought her leg up and kicked his arm down and away in one fluid movement.

Without another word, she disappeared into the shadows.

The Scarecrow smiled after her. Today had been quite the interesting day. He turned to see several guards approaching him with tranquilizer guns in hand.

**Well. Quite the interesting, veeeeeerrrryyyyy late chapter, hm? **

**How'd you like the Maenad? She's Charlene's secret alter ego. She's not quite as easily accessible as Jonathan's Scarecrow, however. She only, ONLY, is able to take control of Charlene's consciousness when Charlene is feeling strong emotion that she doesn't understand/feel often. Her strange attraction to Jon is an emotion like this. Maenad leaves as soon as she falls asleep. Charlene wakes up in control. And usually in trouble. **

**Okay, so I love reviews! Let me know what you thought of this very random, very late chapter! Toodles!**

**Jess**

**PS: I'm being Harley Quinn for Halloween!:D**


End file.
